Hunted
by LaylaBinx
Summary: I-It's okay..." Sam gasped, his hands gripping the bloody arrow protruding from his side. "I don't think it went that deep..." He managed a shaky breath before his eyes rolled back and he tumbled into the swirling rapids below. Hurt Sam! Protective Dean!
1. Vermont Sucks

**Hey guys!! Felt like trying something a little new with my stories :) Still the same 'beat-the-crap-out-of-Sam' style but I'm using a more historical approach with this one. None of it is true though, I'm just playing with history :P I'll explain it all in a bit though!! Also, I have nothing against Vermont, I'm just making Dean hate on it for a bit lol. Hope you enjoy!! :D**

**I own nothing!! (Damn -.-)**

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The early morning sun peaked above the tree tops, illuminating the pine needles and causing them to shimmer in varying shades of green. Larger tress with wider leaves, maple trees, lined the highway on either side, giving the air a distinctly sweet smell. A few roadside signs dotted the edges of the highway, pointing out directions to various towns, gas stations, and restaurants. The highway wound a little further into the trees, causing the sun to peak through them and cast tall shadows across the pavement. It was cool outside, a brisk 47 degrees, but the morning sun was bright and warm.

"And we're in Vermont again because…?" Dean muttered as he carefully passed another car on the highway, pulling back into the lane and resuming his normal speed.

"I told you, we have a case." Sam replied easily, tearing his gaze away from the trees outside to look at his older brother.

"Yeah, but Vermont?" Dean swept his hand toward the windshield, indicating the miles of trees the surrounded them on either side. "Dude, there is nothing in Vermont. There's trees and probably some Canadians but I think that pretty much covers it."

"Dude, what do you have against Vermont?"

"Nothing except that its pretty much America's attic..." Dean muttered, glancing out the window just in time to see a deer standing near the road. "Hey look a deer. Add deer to our list of wildlife sightings."

Sam rolled his eyes and rolled down the window a little, letting the cool nothern air sweep through the car. It was their first real case in nearly a month and it felt good to be working on something that didn't seem like a hoax. The last hunt they'd been on was for a Bigfoot sighting in Lousiana which turned out to be a couple of guys wandering around in hunting camo. The trip had been a bust but spending the week in Lousiana hadn't been all bad. Dean managed to win a couple of good hands in a casino one night so their budget increased marginally. Still, he seemed to be ripping this trip to shreds more agressively than the others.

"What about Lake Champlain?" Sam asked, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

"Beaver."

Sam laughed. "Dude, you can't possibly tell me that all those sightings in that lake are a beaver."

"It **is** a beaver."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure?"

Dean shot Sam an 'are-you-serious' look and shrugged. "Because if there was something in that Lake some would have gotten a better photograph of it. Or it would have washed up on shore. Or some little kid would have poked it with a stick. Either way, I think it's a beaver. Nothing supernatural about it."

Sam chuckled again and rolled his eyes. "Man, you're awfully bitchy today…"

"Am not."

"Completely are."

Dean sighed and rested his elbow against the door, leaning back in the seat. "Sammy, we had the choice to go to Florida or Vermont and you chose the latter. We were in **Lousiana** and you chose to go to **Vermont**."

"Yeah, because there wasn't a case in Florida."

"Like hell there wasn't."

"Dean, a couple of sorority girls wandering around Daytona beach topless and not having any memory of it isn't exactly a supernatural event. More like a loss of inhibition thanks to copious amounts of alcohol."

"Alright Dr. Phil." Dean smirked and turned his attention back to the road. "Geez, when did you become such a prude?"

"Well someone has to be the voice of reason for the two of us." Sam shot back, flipping through a few papers in his lap. He had managed to scrape together as much information from alocal library as he could but it wasn't much. The press hadn't covered the story very intensively; apparently this kind of thing happened alot up here.

Dean smirked and slowed down as they pulled up behind an eighteen wheeler. "Okay, so we cam all the way out here to look for a missing camper?"

"Campers. Plural." Sam rummaged around through a few more papers before finding the one he wanted. "Uh…we have four missing campers. One professor and three grad students."

"Hmm, kinky."

Sam ignored him and continued. "They were due to arrive back at the check-in station last Tuesday but never arrived. The park ranger waited twenty-four hours because he figured they may have decided to take an extra day but when he was unable to contact any of the campers he reported them missing."

"Bears?"

"Nah, not too many bears this time of year. They're probably starting to hibernate." Sam said looking out the window into the trees again. It was November and most bears would have retreated further into the forest by now.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe they decided to make the trip permanent and cross the border. Seriously, Canada is like twenty minutes away." Okat, maybe further than twenty minutes but maple trees were a definate sign that Canada couldn't be too far away.

"Mmm…" Sam made some kind of disagreeing noise in the back of his throat. "Doubtful. The Professor had a wife and two kids and one of the students was due to be married next weekend."

Dean was silent for a minute. Marriage was still kind of a tough subject to talk about around Sam. He knew full well that his little brother had every intention of proposing to Jessica once he got the ring. He had money set aside in a separate account and was only a couple hundred dollars short of buying the perfect engagement ring when she was killed. He never said anything about it but Dean knew; big brother instincts and all. "Okay," He said after a few more silent seconds. "So second question is what were they doing in the woods in the first place?"

Sam rummaged around through a few more papers before pulling out a photocopied news article. "This." He said, holding up the paper so Dean could see.

"Can't read and drive Sammy, I'll kill us both."

Sam rolled his eyes again and began to read the highlighted parts of the article. "Two months ago a couple of hikers found what looked like a skeleton buried beneath a bolder. They called the authorities and when the bolder was removed they found a mass grave holding at least seventeen bodies. The skeletons were shipped off to a local museum where they're still trying to process the bones. According to their statements though, they believe the skeletons are the remains of a Native American tribe that inhabited the area back in the 1700s. My guess is the Professor and his students were going to investigate the area themselves."

"Whoa whoa whoa." Dean said, looking across the seat at his brother. "An Indian Burial ground?! Sam, I've seen Poltergeist, I know what kind of crazy shit can happen when you disturb an Indian Burial ground."

"But see, that's the thing. There haven't been any strange occurrences in the forest until now."

"Yeah, because the grave was disturbed! And if that's the case, then why are we going out into the middle of God's Nowhere? If the bones were shipped into town then why aren't we investigating the museum?"

"There hasn't been anything reported at the museum. No unexplained lights, sounds, movements. Nothing. But the forest on the other hand is literally crawling with activity. There have been countless reports of strange lights in the sky and unexplained noises. And if that's where the missing campers were before their disappearance, I'll bet that's the cause of it."

Dean sighed heavily. He had to admit, his interest was piqued because this case was different from the ones they usually worked. After the last one, he was ready for a real case for a change. "Well, jenkies Sammy, looks like we got us some spirits to track down."

Sam smirked and looked back toward the road. A dark green sign poked out from behind a few trees, nearly hidden in the overgrowth. Sam squinted to read it before pointing to the exit the sign was indicating. "You want to turn up here at this next exit."

Dean nodded and flipped on his blinker. "Alright, well don't blame me if you get sucked into a TV or anything." He said as he turned off the main highway and on to a dusty gravel road.

**OOOOO**

A small, wooden cabin appeared after about ten minutes. The trees were thick over head, the ground covered in leaves and shadow. There was an empty parking area in front of the cabin and single pay phone that looked like it had been there longer then the cabin had. The Impala pulled to a stop in an open parking space and the engine cut off. Dean stepped out carefully and looked around. The forest was active with the chirping of birds, insects, and various other forms of wildlife but there was no sign of any people. Not even a scrap of litter. "Hmm…I don't know about you Sammy but I'm getting some pretty creepy vibes from this place. Straight up "paddle faster, I think I hear banjoes" vibes."

Sam stepped out of the car as well and looked around. "Well, I'm pretty sure a campground that reported some missing campers isn't going to be very high up on the vacation list." He said, closing the door and taking a few steps to the front of the cabin. Dean looked around once more and followed him.

The inside of the cabin looked like every ranger's cabin portrayed in the movies. It was small with wooden walls and floor and pictures of maps and wildlife hung from hooks on the walls. There were a few fish propped up on plaques along with a Dean-sized stuffed bear standing next to the door. Dean rubbed his hand across the bear's snarling muzzle and grinned at Sam. "Thought you said there weren't any bears."

"No, I said they more than likely wouldn't be out this time of year." Sam corrected, looking around the room at the various framed photos.

"Well, you know what they say? 'Liar liar, pant's on fire' And if that's the case, I think Smokey here may have to kick your ass." Dean grinned again and lifted the bear's paw (which was easily twice the size of his hand) and swiped at Sam.

Sam smirked and rolled his eyes, looking around the room once more. "There's no one here…"

"I could have told you that one, kiddo." Dean said, stepping away from the bear and walking over to stand next to him. "Maybe he's out to lunch?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. All we really need is a permit; more for principle than anything..." The last thing they needed was to get hauled in by a ranger becuase they were camping illegally in the forest. One swipe of their IDs through the computer would send the to jail for longer than he liked to think about. After all, being wanted for a few capital crimes didn't sit too well with the authorities. He looked toward the empty front desk that was covered in papers and maps.

Dean followed his gaze andwas already one step ahead of him. "I gotcha." He said, walking over to the desk and sifting through a few of the papers. He came pulled out a contract and began searching the desk for a pen. "Hmm…pen, pen, pen…" He turned toward the other side of the desk and located an ink pen with the cabin's logo on it. "Here we go."

The words had barely left his mouth before the back door to the cabin swung open and Dean was left staring down the long, menacing barrel of a shotgun.

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**So how was it so far?? It picks up in the next few chapters, I promise!! Hope you liked it!! :D**


	2. Angry Rangers and Guns

**Hey guys!! I'm so glad ya'll liked the first chapter!! Hopefully I can continue to deliver :D Oh! And I forgot to mention this takes place like season 1-2ish before all the Dean goes to Hell, Castiel, Ruby, and all that other emotional fuckery that happens in Season 4 O.o Enjoy!!**

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"Don't move." A deep voice growled from the trigger, the words carrying down the barrel in a deadly warning.

Dean's entire body tensed as the gun leveled at his chest. A familiar tingle ran down his spine; adrenaline racing through his veins. This wasn't the first time he'd found himself staring down the business end of a shotgun but it certainly wasn't something he got used to. He brought his hands up slowly to show owner of the gun that he didn't have any weapons on him, just the camping permit (which he quickly dropped back onto the desk) and took a steadying breath. "Sir, we just-"

"Shut up." The man snarled, not lowering his gun in the slightest. "I know why you're here. You two wanna go wander around through the woods to try to find them missin' campers, huh?" He sneered and glared toward the window. "I'm sick of you tourists treatin' this place like it's the Goddamn Blair Witch hunt. Now I want you to get the hell off my property. Now."

Sam took a small step forward, keeping his hands raised as well. Their father didn't believe in luck but he did believe in being prepared for any situation life happened to through at you and this happened to be one that he'd trained them for. Anytime you're placed on the losing side of a gun, move slowly, speak slowly, and try to remain as non-threatening as possible. Most of the time it worked. Most of the time. "Sir, we didn't come here to look for anyone. My brother and I were just trying to get a camping permit for a few days.

The gun swung to him but it was lowering just a bit now. "Bullshit." The gunman growled, stepping a little bit further into the room. "I've been workin' here ten years so I know exactly why you're here. The only reason people have been coming here for the past couple weeks is to look for those campers or more Indian bones. No one just comes to **camp** anymore." There was obvious disdain in his voice as if the very idea was offensive.

"Honestly man, we haven't heard anything about any missing campers." Dean said from off to the side, anxious to get the man focused on him again instead of Sam. Dean was relatively level-headed with just about everything until it came to Sam being put in danger; that was something he could not handle. He noticed the safety was still on which could mean he could knock the gun away before anyone got hurt but it also meant the man could press the button and blow them both to Hell. Not an option he was willing to take, especially with the barrel still pointing at Sam.

The gunman looked between them for a few seconds, contemplating their stories. He seemed to weigh the options in his head before finally lowering the gun with a heavy sigh. He look about 75 years old with misty blue eyes and a thick mustache that nearly buried his mouth. He was about Dean's height but he looked like he could take both boys in a fair fight if given the option. With another sigh, he opened the door to his office and tossed the shotgun into the room, looking back at the boys. "So you boys really don't know anything about those campers?" He asked hesitantly, still not completely sure whether to believe them or not.

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and dropped his arms. "Seriously, we haven't heard of any missing anythings." He said, glancing over to see Sam drop his arms as well. "The strangest thing we've heard of from around here is Lake Champlain." Sure, it was a lie but if it kept them from getting shot Dean would try to convince the man the sky was purple.

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes, digging into the pocket of his denim shirt and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. There was badge on poking out of the pocket of his jeans but he didn't make a big show of it, the authority in his voice was enough. This man was the park ranger. "Another Goddamn wild goose chase." He muttered, lighting the cigarette and taking a slow drag. He dropped the back onto the cluttered desk and leaned against the wall. "So you boys wanna camp, huh?" He said, looking between them suspiciously.

"Well, I never did manage to get my Wilderness Badge when I was in boy scouts and figured now would be a great time to try and earn it." Dean quipped, still a little irritated with the man for holding them a gun point for a stupid camping permit.

If the man had caught onto Dean's sarcasm he didn't show it. Instead, he turned to face Sam, waiting expectantly for an acceptable answer.

Sam cleared his throat carefully and settled his shoulders back. "Actually sir, our father used to take us here alot when we were younger and we figured since we were in the area we'd come back and spend a few days on the old trail." He hoped it worked and that the man hadn't been here long enough to know whether or not that was true.

"Oh yeah? So where's Dad now?" The man asked, taking another drag on his cigarette.

Instead of saying "we have no freakin' clue" Dean simply shrugged and said, "He had to work."

The man raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and grabbed the paper Dean had set down on the desk. He handed it to them and pushed a pen to the edge of the desk. "Fill this out with both of your names, an available phone number, and the date you plan to return." He sounded bored and irritated as if this was the last thing he wanted to do. Sam figured he couldn't blame him; if he'd been working somewhere for ten years and suddenly the place was swamped with tourists and scientists that weren't here for the park then he'd be a little irritated too.

Dean filled out the paper work carefully, using the usual fake last names and addresses. He wasn't sure why so much information had to be including a camping permit but he wasn't about to ask gun-toting ranger boy any unnecessary questions.

"That's $25 for the permit. Cash or credit?" The ranger asked once Dean finished the paperwork.

"Uh…" Dean hesitated. Usually the cards were what they went with but he wasn't sure using a fake credit card on a man who'd already pulled a gun on them would be such a great idea.

"Cash." Sam said from behind him. He dug into his pockets but, realizing he'd left his wallet in the car, smiled sheepishly and took a step toward the door. "Be right back." He mumbled as he stepped out and jogged over to the car, leaving Dean alone with the ranger.

"So you boys are brothers, hmm?" He asked after a second, taking one last drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out in an empty ashtray on the desk.

Dean raised an eyebrow carefully and nodded. "Yes sir." He said, not entirely sure where the ranger was going with it.

"You don't look that much alike." He said with a shrug, glancing out the window to see Sam digging around in the floorboards of the car. "Just thought maybe the whole "brother" routine was a cover for something else."

Dean felt his face flush but before he could respond, Sam opened the door and walked over to the desk, laying down some cash on the permit. The ranger nodded and handed him a yellow plastic tag to hang on the mirror of their car. He gave them a map as well as a guide to the local flora and fauna and wrote the number to the cabin on the side of it. "You boys have fun." He said once they had gotten all the information they needed.

"We will. Thank you." Sam smiled and dragged his still fuming brother out of the building. He hauled Dean out to the car and let go of his sleeve. "Dude, what's up with you? You looked like you were ready to beat that guy with a stick."

Dean glanced back to the cabin and huffed irritably. "Dude, why is that everywhere we go someone thinks we're gay?!" He hissed angrily, stalking around to the back of the Impala and opening the trunk.

"He thought we were-?" Sam stopped mid-sentence and smirked. It was a problem they'd run into before but it still pissed Dean off no end when it happened. "Think he was hitting on you?" Sam teased as he came around to the back of the car.

"Bite me."

Sam smirked again and pulled out a large duffle back that held their camping supplies. They'd been on enough hunts in forests to pack a bag with pretty much anything they needed. "Cause you know, I could head out and give you two some privacy. You can catch up when you're done."

"Sam, so help me God, I have a trunk full of guns, knives, and a various assortment of other spiffy weapons that will cause painful and permanent damage to you. Don't test me." Dean muttered something else rather nasty under his breath and continued to pick through the trunk to get everything they need. He slung a bag full of weapons and ammo across his shoulder and closed the trunk. "Come on, princess. Let's go play Cowboys and Indians." He said, slipping the yellow tag around the mirror before walking toward the head of the trail.

Sam tried as hard as he could but he couldn't keep it in. "That's what he said."

"Keep it up and I'll fill your sleeping bag with poison ivy again." Dean grumbled as he kept walking.

Sam chuckled but let anymore comments go. He knew Dean was serious about the poison ivy threat; he'd done it when Sam was nine and the boy had been completely covered for nearly a week. Shrugging the heavy duffel bag onto his shoulder, he jogged to catch up with his brother.

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**Okay, so the story should start to pick up a little bit more in the next chapter. Hope you guys liked it!! :D**


	3. Found

**Hey guys!! Hope you all are still enjoying it!! I promise it'll start picking up!! :D**

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After a few minutes of walking, the Impala disappeared behind the thick canopy of trees and overgrowth. The path was lined for about half a mile but then broke off into nothing but a man-made footpath. Sunlight filtered in through the trees, speckling the ground in mottled gold and black shadows. It was just warm enough to be comfortable but the wind was sharp and caused a biting snap with each gust that managed to get through the trees.

"Did you know this park has been around since 1946?" Sam asked from a few feet back, scanning the flyer the ranger had given them.

"Had no idea." Dean mumbled in return, keeping his eyes forward to the winding trail ahead. Despite his younger brother's conviction, Dean still wasn't too sure a bear wasn't going to pop out of the woods at any given moment.

Sam was silent for a few minutes more, scanning the page carefully. "Wow, you can hunt moose here…" He muttered to himself more than anyone.

"That's nice."

The younger man frowned and looked up from the flyer. "Dude, what's your problem? You're not still pissed about the ranger hitting on you are you?"

Dean rolled his eyes and glanced back to his brother. "Okay, first of all, the ranger was not hitting on me. And second, I'm trying make sure we don't get mauled by a bear while you're geeking out back there over some national park facts."

Sam chuckled and tucked the flyer into his pocket. "Dean, seriously, we have a better chance of being attacked by a moose than a bear this time of year. And trust me, if Yogi comes charging out of the woods I'll be first to admit you were right."

"Damn right you will." Dean mumbled, stepping over a fallen branch and rounding a large stump that took up half the trail. "So where exactly are we heading, Ranger Rick?"

"Uhh…" Sam pulled up out the map and looked over it carefully. "The bones were found near a place called Waits Pass, a few miles away from here."

"And our missing campers were supposed to be going there?"

"As far as we know, yep."

"Fantastic." The trail took a steep rise up ahead, rounded boulders lining the path on either side at the top of the hill. Roots and flattened clay made for easy steps but the angles was still sharp and both boys were out of breath by the time the reached the top. They scanned the winding trail as it twisted and turned its way down into a deeper part of the forest, the trees looming ominously overhead. "Alright, down into the creepy forest we go."

**OOOOO**

After about an hour of walking, a large, granite rock face appeared in the distance. The trail veered away from it, leading down to a cliff that hung about fifty feet above a river. The water was rushing by swiftly, sloshing and splashing over submerged rocks and riverbed. A wooden safety fence had been placed between the edge of the cliff and the trail, a small plaque saying 'Caution: Drop Off' bolted to the wood.

The ground had been disturbed near the rock face, the soil repeatedly dug through and walked over recently. The remnants of yellow Caution tape hung from a nearby shrub and there were a few plastic collection bags still tucked against the edge of the rock.

"I think this is the place." Sam said, dropping his bag and digging around in the top of it. He pulled out their handmade EMF detector and scanned the area around the rock and soil carefully.

"Find anything?" Dean asked, digging through his own bag and pulling out a bottle of water for himself and for Sam. He tossed the water to his brother and opened his own, taking a long drink. Granted, the weather was definitely cool enough to take a hike but it was still challenging, especially when you're carrying sixty pounds of equipment on your back.

Sam frowned and got a little closer to the rock, touching something dark near the ground.

"What is it?" Dean asked, noticing his brother's silence.

"I don't know…" Sam said, brushing his fingers over the mark carefully. "It looks like blood but I'm not getting any readings with the EMF."

"That's weird." Dean admitted, coming a little closer so he could examine the mark as well. "Especially if this was an Indian burial ground and everything. You'd figure there'd be at least, I don't know…something?"

Sam nodded and sighed, turning off the detector and dropping it back in the bag. "Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with the bones. Maybe it's something else entirely."

"Well, I'm open for any ideas if you have them." Dean said, taking another sip of his water before dropping it back in his bag. He looked at the ground, noticing a few deep holes in the dirt a few feet away. "Well, it looks like our campers did make a stop here. At least that's something."

Sam nodded and dropped onto a rock, opening his own bottle of water. "Yeah, but if they stopped here, where did they go after that?" The question was rhetorical but it didn't make it any less irritating.

"You're guess is as good as mine, Sammy." Dean said, looking through the trees toward the river. Those rapids were pretty intense but the water was sort of a deterrent; he couldn't imagine how cold it must be this time of year. "Wanna keep moving?"

Sam nodded and stood, grabbing his bag again. "Yeah, let's keep walking. We might find something further up the trail."

They crossed down past the rock face and made their way through the trees. The river could be heard even as the trail veered back into the woods and dipped down into a small valley. The tree's shadows were getting a little darker now as the sun crept lower into the sky. It would be night time soon and they needed to make camp before it got too dark. After about two more miles, they stopped in a small clearing and dropped their bags, pulling out the necessary equipment to set up a tent. Years of hunts in the woods had lead them to set up quickly and easily and, within a few minutes, they had a fully functional campsite.

"Alright, we've got soup or…" Dean dug through the bag and pulled out a large can. "Soup. Yay soup."

Sam laughed and reached into his bag, pulling out a six-pack of beer and tossing it to Dean." Here ya go. I'm going to go find some fire wood."

Dean caught the cans and grinned brightly. "Ah, you rock Sam."

"I try." Sam chuckled, ducking behind a tree and grabbing and handful of dry leaves and twigs and tucking them under his arm. He picked up a few bigger pieces, hoping they were dry enough to use and set them in a pile closer to the campsite. Something red, like a strip of fabric, caught his eye a little further into the trees and he quirked an eyebrow, walking toward it carefully.

The ground felt softer in this part of the forest, maybe because it was off the normal trail. A large, oak tree towered above him, the top disappearing past the branches of the other trees. Large, thick roots poked out from all angles across the ground and Sam had to step over them to avoid tripping. As he got closer he realized the red fabric was the nylon lining of a jacket, shredded and muddy from being out in the brush. He kneeled carefully and picked it up, flipping it over in his hand and examining the ripped edges.

"Sammy?" Dean called from somewhere behind him. "What are you doing?"

"I think I found some-" He never got a chance to finish as the soft ground beneath him crumbled away and he fell into a dark, root laden cavern. He landed on something hard (probably a root) and winced, closing his eyes as more dirt fell in on top of him.

"Sam!" Dean suddenly appeared above the hole and looked down at him with concern. "Hey man, you okay?"

Sam nodded slowly and winced again, shifting his weight so he wasn't sitting on the root anymore. "Yeah, I'm okay…" The air felt cold and wet and smelled like death; a deep, nauseating smell that clung to his clothes and skin. The smell of death hardly ever indicated anything good. He put his hand down and pressed into the ground to push himself up but gasped suddenly as something sharp pierced his palm. Jerking his hand up he looked to see a shallow cut oozing blood in the center of his palm.

"You okay? What happened?" Dean demanded, the worried edge on his voice making him sound almost angry.

"Nothing, I think I just scraped my hand on a rock or something." Sam muttered, pushing himself to his knees and looking at the ground where he'd just put his hand. The pointed edge of something poked out of the soil and Sam picked it up, flipping it over in his hand. It was an arrow head, made of chipped granite, and the point gleamed slightly with his blood. Sam suddenly noticed something and frowned, looking down at what he was kneeling on. It wasn't a root, it was much smaller and glistened white and pink in the dim light of the cave. Sam was sitting on a bone.

He jumped slightly and sat back, looking across the flood of the cave, his eyes widening. Four crumpled, bloody skeletons lay scattered across the floor, their clothes in tatters. The dirt flood was ruddy with dried blood and bones were covered in maggots and worms as they worked their way to clean them completely. Sam felt a wave of nausea pass through him and nearly gagged but stopped when a cold burst of wind exploded from somewhere in the cave. It chilled him to the bone and he fell back, dropping the arrow head, and landing near the rooted edge of the cave. The wind sounded almost like a groan or ever worse a growl.

"Sammy, give me your hand." Dean said above him, holding onto a root at the edge of the hole and reaching down.

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his brother's hand and practically jumped in an effort to get out of the cave. He fell to his knees next to Dean and shivered, glancing back down into the dark hole.

"Hey, Sammy you okay? Look at me, kiddo." Dean said, ducking into his line of sight and frowning in concern.

Sam managed a nod and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah…I think I just found our missing campers…"

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**Eeeek!! Not good O.o Hope you liked it!! :D**


	4. Night Terrors

**Yay!! New chapter!! :D Okay, so there's a little bit of Sam angst in this chapter but nothing too terrible!! Hope you all like it!! :D**

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The temperature had dropped about twenty degrees since the sun had gone down, the chill from the cool night abating slightly by the warm flicker of the fire. It was quiet, a few crickets and birds calling out in the darkness and the soft rush of the river nearby. The stars glittered brightly overhead, shining down on the tranquil forest from high up above. It was nights like this that the Dean was glad they were a few miles away from any major cities. The bright, bold lights of a city were welcome in some occasions but tonight it was nice to simple lay back and enjoy the starlight; they hardly ever had nights like this anymore.

Sam sat across from him, staring blankly at the fire as the shadows flickered across his face. He was brushing his fingertips over the bandaged cut on his palm, picking and pulling at the edges of the corners of the tape absently. It hadn't been very deep but it was in an awkward position to bandage so the edges of the bandage were crinkled and uneven against the creases in his hand. He'd been quiet since the incident in the cave, staring vacantly into the forest or down at the campfire, which ever came first.

Dean frowned, poking the fire with a stick just enough to move the coals around and cause the heated wood to crackle. "You okay?" He asked after a few more seconds of silence, gazing through the fire at his brother.

For a minute Sam didn't answer; he was too caught up in whatever was going on in his head. His eyes were narrowed at some obscure point in the ground and he rested his elbows on his knees, hunching forward slightly.

"Sammy."

Hearing his name was enough to drag Sam back to reality and he blinked, looking over at his brother. "Yeah?"

Dean chuckled softly and poked the fire again for lack of anything else to do. "Jeez, space out much?" He smiled but became serious, fixing the younger man with a careful gaze. "I asked if you were alright. You've been quiet since we got back."

"Sorry." Sam said, offering him a weak half-smile and shrugged helplessly. "I guess I'm just…" He faded off, looking back into the dark woods. His words hung heavily in the air for several seconds before he spoke again. "It's just…we found them, you know? Meaning their families have to face the fact that they…"

Dean nodded in silent understanding. They had seen their fair share of God-awful things in their lives but it never made it any easier to face the hard reality that the victims were people's children, siblings, parents, loved ones. No matter how many things they faced or how many demons they killed, you could never completely desensitize yourself from it. Unfortunately, this was one job that wouldn't leave itself at the office. "I understand, Sammy. Believe me, I do. But you can't beat yourself up over it. The fact that we did find them and can bring some closure to their families is enough."

Sam shrugged again and shifted in his jacket. "It's just strange though."

"What isn't?"

Sam smiled softly and shook his head. "Those bodies had been down their for about two weeks, right?"

"I guess?"

"But there was almost nothing left of them; bones but that was about it. What could cause something like that? And not only that, why were they underground to begin with?"

Dean shrugged and looked in the woods in the direction they'd come from. "Your guess is as good as mine, Sammy." He said, zipping his jacket a little higher and fighting back a shiver. Note to self: Vermont sucks a lot. "But that's what you and I are here for: to find out what killed those campers and make sure it doesn't happen again. We are the best at what we do after all."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We need to report it to the ranger in the morning though…"

Dean half-expected another attempt at a gay joke from his little brother but it never came. With a soft sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and walked over, patting Sam on the back gently. "Come on, Sammy. No sense worrying over it tonight." He ruffled the younger man's hair and turned, making his way back to the tent. Unzipping the front flap carefully, he looked back to his brother expectantly. "You coming?"

"In a minute." Sam said, smiling normally. "I think I'm going to sit out here for a little while longer."

Dean hesitated for a second before relenting. "Alright, suit yourself. I guess I do need more beauty rest than you." He teased, laughing as Sam flipped him off across the fire. "Don't stare at that thing too long, you'll go blind."

"Yeah yeah." Sam smiled, waving as his brother turned in for the night.

**OOOOO**

The fire died down slowly, the flames faded into nothing but smoldering embers by the time Sam decided to turn in. He straightened slowly, unfolding his long body until he was standing completely. He stretched, wincing as his back and hips popped from sitting in one place too long. The fire popped and crackled along with him, adding a little extra emphasis to his movements. He sighed, looking at the smoldering remains and looking toward the trees. He stepped carefully over the tree branch he'd been using as a bench and grabbed a handful of dirt, walking back over to the fire and dumping it into the middle of the pit. Smoke billowed up from the embers, filling the air with dusty fumes. Sam grabbed another handful of dirt and dropped it on top of the first one, repeating the action a few times until the coals were almost completely smothered.

Something shifted in the woods off to his right and Sam froze, the muscles in his back going rigid almost instantly. He waited, looking out into the blackness for a long time, hoping to see any kind of movement. Finally, after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Sam relaxed and let out a heavy breath. The cave had made him jumpy and it was easy to mistake the normal sounds of the forest for a threat. He stooped to pick up another handful of dirt and stopped when something snapped behind him.

Sam jerked up instantly, grabbing a rock on the way up and holding it tightly. All of the weapons were in the tent with his brother and Sam doubted that whatever was lurking in the forest was going to give him the time to run inside and get something to fight with.

There was deep growl behind him, another from in front, and the snapping of leaves and twigs as something approached from both sides. He was completely surrounded and there was nothing he could do about it.

A sudden gust of wind exploded from one side, hitting him with enough force to knock him to the side. His ankle caught the tree branch and he fell, landing with a thud on the dusty ground. Something dark and heavy landed beside him, a flash of teeth and eyes glinting in the dim light. Sam had just enough time to block a snapping pair of jaws and roll out of the way right into another one. The second beast pinned him to the ground while the first returned, eyes narrowing in predatory hunger. Reacting with as much strength as he could, Sam swung he rock and struck the creature above him in the side of the head. The animal yelped and staggered back, growling deeply in the back of its throat. The second lunged, jaws aiming for Sam's throat. Sam kicked up, hitting it in the chest and knocking it back. He managed to get to his knees and was about to call for Dean when something grabbed him from behind, jerking him into the forest and throwing him roughly into a tree.

Stars exploded behind his eyes and Sam blinked into the darkness. He could just barely make out the body of a man, his face coated in black and brown paint. His eyes were fierce and he spoke in a low, threatening language Sam didn't understand. There was a flash of something overhead and Sam knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the hatchet that was swinging down directly toward his head.

**OOOOO**

"Sammy!"

Sam gasped and sat up suddenly, eyes wide and chest heaving. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he looked around franticly, convinced the razored edge of the hatchet was only a few seconds away from taking his head off. Instead he saw nothing but the inside of the tent, the darkened shadows playing across the flaps shifting as the wind blew outside. He had been inside, asleep, the fire put out hours ago when he'd turned in. Sam trembled; the dream had felt so real…

"Sam?" The younger man took a shaky breath and looked over into the concerned face of his brother. "Hey man, you okay?"

"Dean?" He asked, struggling to even out his breathing.

Dean frowned and sat up a little bit more, peering at Sam with a troubled expression in his green eyes. "Yeah, it's me. Dude, what happened? You started thrashing around like you were having some kind of fit and it took a few minutes to wake you up…" There was genuine concern in Dean's voice, something he normally didn't let show unless it was something serious. "Seriously, are you alright?"

Sam swallowed carefully, taking a few deep breaths before nodding. "Yeah…yeah I'm okay…" He ignored the shiver that raced down his back. "Just a nightmare…"

"A nightmare?" Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Dude, you nearly gave me a heart attack for a freakin' nightmare?" He wanted to say more but stopped when he noticed how pale his brother was. "Sam?"

Sam shook his head slowly and smiled. "I'm alright, Dean…" He said, settling back into his sleeping bag. His heart was still racing, the thunder of blood in his ears making it hard to hear. "Sorry I woke you up."

Dean's frown deepened and he gazed at his brother carefully. "You wanna talk about it?" He hated sounded all chick-flicky but whatever Sam had just dreamed about it had really shaken him up.

The younger man smiled and shook his head. "No, its okay. Thanks though…" He rolled onto his side quickly, effectively cutting off any more questions from his older brother.

Dean hesitated for a few seconds before slowly laying back down. "Alright man, well let me know if you need anything…" He said, shifting into a more comfortable position and willing himself to fall back asleep. It took a while but finally he was able to slip back into a light, restless sleep.

Sam was not so fortunate. He lay on his side for several hours, unable to get the images of the nightmare out of his head. He pulled his hand up to his face, examining the bandages in the darkness. The white cloth was stained red in the center and his palm felt damp and sticky; the wound had started bleeding again. With a soft sigh, Sam shoved his hand back into his sleeping bag and stared at the tent walls blankly. He didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

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**Hope the nightmare sequence wasn't too confusing :D See you guys in the next chapter!!**


	5. Arrows and Wolves and Rapids

**...Oh My!! :P Yay!! Hurt Sammy in this chapter!! Terrible cliffhanger, just so you know, but I'll update again as soon as I get done with my finals!! :D**

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The rest of the night passed by slowly and then, just as Sam was beginning to dose off for the first time since his nightmare, the sun peaked over the edges of the trees. He groaned, burying his face in the slick nylon of his sleeping bag and staring at the shiny fabric. He was exhausted and the night of tossing and turning had done little to alleviate this problem. He back and shoulders were stiff and his hand ached dully, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. All together it had been a miserable night.

Dean woke up about five minutes after Sam deemed sleep useless and sat up, stretching his arms up toward the sky. "Mornin' Sammy." He said through a yawn, smiling tiredly at his little brother. He knew Sam hadn't slept well the night before but had hoped the younger hunter had at least gotten a few hours of rest during the night. He didn't know how wrong he was.

"Morning." Sam mumbled, shimmying out of his sleeping bag and standing slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his joints. Being tall definitely had its disadvantages. He stooped again and began to roll up his sleeping back, tying it into a tight roll. Satisfied with that, he rummaged into his bag and pulled out a thick sweatshirt, pulling it on over the long sleeve shirt he was already wearing. Morning in Vermont were a bit intense and he could make out a thin layer of frost that coated the outside of the tent.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Dean asked, startling Sam out of his dazed stare.

"Hm?"

"I said did you get any sleep last night? You look like hell." Dean frowned, taking his brother's haggard appearance and distracted behavior. He wondered if Sam was still bothered by the nightmare he'd had the night before.

"I got a little bit." Sam lied, slipping his boots on and tying them tightly. They were in for another long day of walking and blisters were definitely not something he wanted.

Dean hesitated, knowing full well that Sam was lying, but decided not to push the issue. One thing Sam had inherited from their father was hardheadedness and he was usually more stubborn than a brick wall. Shifting into a standing position, Dean rolled up his own sleeping bag and changed into some warmer clothes as well, slightly upset with the fact that he could see his breath _inside_ the tent.

Once both brothers were dressed, they stepped outside and began taking down the tent, rolling up the individual pieces and shoving them back into their respective bags. The tear down only took a few minutes and pretty soon their campsite was completely packed and vacant. Sam dug a bright yellow roll of tape out of his bag and walked back toward the area they'd found the bodies, tagging the trees as he walked. Dean followed close behind him, ready to help out if Sam needed it. He still seemed pretty shaken up from the event and was likely to fall back into the hole if he wasn't careful.

The ground seemed softer and darker as if the underlying soil had suddenly ended up on the surface. The smell of death was strong and it became more and more pungent the closer they got to the hole. Sam pulled off another section of tape and wrapped it around the base of a tree, a marker that would be easily recognizable when they came back with the ranger. He stopped, frowning at the tree up ahead. Something seemed different….wrong. The tree roots had turned black overnight, snaking up the trunk and dying the tree a sickening shade of decay. The leaves were brown and withered and the ground around the base of the tree looked oily and dark, as if the bodies had somehow polluted the ground. The wind stopped moving as they got closer and the forest became silent, the sound of their breathing hovering in the air loudly.

"Sammy." Dean said from behind, coming up and touching his brother's arm.

Sam jumped slightly and looked back at him, eyes questioning the cautious tone in his older brother's voice.

"We need to get out of here. There's something weird going on…"

Sam didn't argue; he simply nodded and turned, following Dean back toward the trail they'd followed. A chill crept up Sam's spine as he walked, as if turning his back on the tree had made it angry. He shivered, glancing back briefly before straightening his shoulders and following Dean further away from the gruesome burial site. His hand throbbed more intensely as they walked, blood oozing from the wound and staining the bandages again. He could feel it seeping through the cloth and streaming through his fingers, leaving tiny crimson droplets along the forest floor. Stitches may not be completely out of the question after all.

They had only gotten about one hundred yards away from their campsite when they heard it, the soft yet distinct sound of footsteps following them. Dean froze instantly, hand gripping the shot gun he'd retrieved from his bag. Beside him Sam stopped as well, gazing out into the morning dark woods. The sun had slipped behind a low layer of clouds so the entire forest was covered in pale grey light. The footsteps got closer, shifting and separating until they were coming from every direction. Sam swallowed hard, gripping his own gun tightly. This was exactly how his dream had started.

"Sammy…" Dean said, glancing at his brother.

"Yeah…?"

"You said there weren't bears this time of year right?"

Sam nodded carefully, swinging his shot gun toward the sharp snap of twig to his left.

"What about wolves…?"

The question took Sam by surprise and he glanced at his brother, his eyes widening suddenly. Standing only about seven feet away from them, fur bristled and black, was one of the biggest wolves Sam had ever seen. It was easily the size of a small quarter horse, with powerful legs and a low, arched back. Its eyes gleamed dangerously bright, mouth pulling back into a wide, fang-filled snarl. The monster wolf growled low in its throat, crouching a little lower to the ground as it sized up its opposition. Another growl rumbled from in front of him and Sam looked back to see a second wolf on his side, its body aligned in the same position. Two more joined them, covering them on each side and leaving very little room for an escape.

Suddenly the first wolf leaped into the air, bypassing Dean completely and landing beside Sam, flashing its teeth viciously. Sam stumbled away, firing point blank into the wolf's throat but the bullet passed clean through, ricocheting against a tree and disappearing into the forest. The second moved in for another attack but Dean grabbed Sam and shoved him behind him, placing himself between the wolves and his brother.

The one closet to him growled in annoyance and bared its fangs. It didn't seem to want anything to do with him; they were after Sam.

"Shit…Sammy, I think we need to change our plan a bit…" Dean said, keeping his eyes on the wolves in front of him and hoping like hell there weren't anymore behind them.

"What did you have in mind?" Sam asked, aiming his gun over his brother's shoulder.

Without waiting for a better idea to come to him, Dean turned and grabbed Sam by the sleeve, bolting blindly into the forest. "Run!"

The trees whipped past them in flashes of gnarled branches and roots, ripping and tearing at their clothes as they ran. Behind them the heavy crash of paws hitting the earth followed relentlessly. Dean kept himself behind Sam, desperate to keep the enormous wolves away from his brother. He had no idea why they were after Sam but apparently the younger Winchester was on the menu for the day. Something (probably a rock or some other deceitful obstacle hell bent of his demise) snagged his ankle and he fell, tumbling to the ground and landing hard on his back. He'd half expected a face full of wolf by now but instead saw nothing chasing them anymore, the forest was silent. Sam was at his side and instant later, hauling him up by the back of his jacket and dragging him through the trees again. Quiet forest be damned, they weren't taking any chances.

They ran until it felt like battery acid was surging through their veins and their lungs burned for oxygen. Finally, they stumbled into a small clearing, a large rock face and goofy little wooden safety fence indicating they'd made it back to Waits Pass. Sam leaned heavily against the rock face and Dean clutched his knees, drawing in large gulps of air for his oxygen starved lungs. "What…" He gasped, straightening a little. "The hell was that?!" He swung his arm wide toward the area they'd just run through. "Those wolves weren't after us…they were after you, Sammy!" Dean looked at his still panting younger brother and frowned. "Now what the hell happened in that hole yesterday?! Why were they trying to rip your throat out back there?!"

Sam shook his head, looking back into the woods. "I don't know…" He pushed away from the rock wall and placed his hands on his hips, walking in circles the way he usually did when he was worried or nervous. "I didn't see anything other than the bodies but…I felt something…" He paused to take another deep breath. "I don't know what it was but…something just felt dangerous about that place…" He scrubbed at his eyes, picking a few leaves out his hair and shaking his head again. "And then last night I had a dream about those wolves…I don't know how or why…but I know it was them…"

For a few minutes neither brother spoke, they simply stood and tried to catch their breath. The icy air was a welcome relief from the sweat they'd just worked up but it felt colder for some reason, intimidating. "Okay…well whatever it is it stopped back there." Dean said, nodding to the path they'd just came from. "Maybe its bound to one area in particular."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than something thudded sharply into the tree next to his head. Dean jumped away, looking at the tree in shock. Embedded a good two and half inches into the thick wood was a thin wooden shaft, the end streamlined with black feathers. Dean stared at it incredulously for a few seconds before it dawned on him. "Holy shit…an arrow?!" Unless the wolves had suddenly become sentient enough to fire arrows at them, they had an entirely new problem on their hands.

Another shaft zipped through the trees from an unknown source, bouncing off the rock face just inches from Sam's head. The younger man jumped away and it was Dean's turn to grab him, dragging him off the trail and back into the woods. They ran in a zig- zagging pattern, arrows whistling past them at every turn and sinking deeply into the trees around them. The trees opened up off to their right, dropping off to the rushing river below. They just needed to keep out of sight, do anything to keep from being an easy target. Dean dove behind a large, overgrown bush and dragged Sam down with him.

"You okay?" He asked, scanning the younger man for injuries.

Sam nodded, doing the same for his brother. "Yeah, you?"

Dean nodded in return and peeked out through the branches of the bush. "Okay, here's the deal…" He took a slow breath and kept his gaze out into the woods. "You keep you're bag on your back, protect your neck and back at all times, and run as fast as you can, I'll be right behind you."

"Dean-" Sam started but his protest was cut off immediately.

"Shut it, Sammy. I'm still the big brother in this situation and you're going to do what I say, got it?"

Sam nodded carefully. Dean usually only used that tone of voice when things were more serious than they realized and now seemed like one of those times. "Got it."

"Good." A silent understanding passed between them and Dean nodded reassuringly. I've got you covered. "Ready….and go!"

Sam sprang up from behind the bush and darted into the trees, running as fast as he could. Arrows zipped past him at every angle, grazing his cheek and swishing through his hair. He ran hard, following the same zig-zag pattern they'd used earlier, hoping it would work long enough to get them back to the Ranger's station.

Dean waited for about ten seconds after Sam before he followed the same path. He ran swiftly, noticing with a sense of dread that the arrows didn't seem to be firing at him as much. So that meant that whoever had the balls enough to shoot at them was probably with the wolves they'd encountered earlier and were after Sam. "Super." Dean muttered, dodging a low branch and jumping over a fallen tree. He glanced back just long enough to catch sight of something, or someone, disappearing into the trees behind him. It looked like a man but he was only covered from the waist down, his chest and face coated in black paint. He moved like a predator, stealthy and lethal, and his dark hair swung around his head as he ran. There were others in the forest as well, three maybe four, all running in the same direction. Looking for Sam. "Oh hell no…" Dean growled, pushing himself harder and racing further into the trees.

Just up ahead he saw Sam, still running, and managed to push himself just hard enough to catch up to him. He grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt and pulled him behind a tree just as two more arrows slammed into the thick wood and a third bounced off behind them. They were close to the river, the water churning and crashing below them and it was hard to hear anything else. Taking a long, shuddering breath, Dean glared back into the trees, daring the strange men to come any closer. "I think we're a little outnumbered here Sammy…"

"Dean…" Sam was breathing harshly behind him, his words strained and breathy.

"Shh…" Dean held up his hand and listened, waiting for the continuous fire of arrows. "It got quiet…"

"Dean…" Sam said again, his voice more strained this time as if it hurt to talk.

"What is it Sam?" Dean snapped, turning to face his brother in irritation. God, the kid apparently didn't know the definition of quiet. His eyes widened suddenly and he felt his stomach drop to his feet. "Oh Christ…Sammy…!"

Sam was doubled over, hands covered in blood from an arrow that had managed to hit its mark. The shaft had hit just above his hip, sinking deeply into the soft flesh of his abdomen. "I-It's okay…" Sam gasped, his hands gripping the bloody arrow protruding from his side. "I don't think it went that deep…" He managed a shaky breath just before his eyes rolled back and he tumbled over the edge of the cliff into the swirling rapids below.

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**Oh no!! What will happen?! Don't worry, I can't kill him but I'm certainly not going to make it easy :D Hope you liked it!!**


	6. Water Logged

**Oh noz!! Sammy!! What will happen?! Read to find out =P Hehe, Dean says 'shit' alot in this chapter...I just realized that O.o**

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"Sammy!" Dean cried, making a desperate grab for his falling brother but catching nothing but air. He watched in horror as Sam fell bonelessly over the edge of the cliff and splashed into the churning water. There was brief horrible moment where he couldn't see him, the swirling water whipping and tumbling over large boulders and rocks so quickly it made it impossible to make out where Sam had fallen. There was blur of something just beneath the surface of the water about ten feet from where he'd landed and Sam's head appeared above the water just long enough for Dean to get a good grasp of his location.

"Shit…shit…" Dean muttered, glancing behind him as if expecting to see the massive wolves or black-painted hunters waiting to take him down. Part of him knew they wouldn't be, they'd gotten Sam and that's who they wanted. Suddenly furious for what they'd done to his brother, Dean shrugged the bag off his back and dropped it to the ground. He didn't give himself time to think as he ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped.

The drop was at least forty feet and Dean realized about halfway down that he had no idea how deep the water was. It didn't matter though; all that mattered was getting to Sam. The water was icy, sucking him under and stabbing at him like a thousand knives. Dean shot to the surface, gasping and sputtering as the frigid river cut through his clothes and clung to his skin. He did his best to keep his head above the swirling currents but the river had other ideas and decided to play dunking for Winchesters. Each drop sucked him under, bouncing him along the rough rocks that lined the bottom of the river. He'd struggle to the surface just long enough to get a gulp of air before another rapid would close over him.

_Sam Sam Sam_. That was the only thing Dean kept thinking as he was being tossed around like a rag doll in the river; his brother's name repeating through his head like a mantra. In the few times he'd been above water in the past couple minutes, he could just make out Sam's limp form being carried along the currents, still a couple feet ahead of him. He needed to get to him and fast; Sam couldn't take much more of this. But then again, neither could he…the cold water zapping his strenght and making him weak and tired.

Using every ounce of strength he could muster, Dean pushing himself onto his stomach and began to swim, doing his best to avoid the boulders that were trying to use him like the ball in a pinball machine. His swimming, combined with the force of the river, pushed him faster than he thought and he was suddenly just a hand's reach away from Sam. He reached out, almost grabbing Sam's jacket when another rapid decided to take him instead. Sam's head disappeared below the water and he didn't resurface.

"No!" Dean growled, taking a breath and ducking underwater after his brother. He fumbled around blindly for a few seconds before something soft brushed against his fingers. Grabbing a handful of whatever it was, Dean pushed back to the surface, hauling his catch with him. He was gripping the back of Sam's shirt, the wet material tangled in his fingers and Dean pulled the unconscious younger man to him. Sam's head lolled limply against his shoulder and his face was ashen, water streaming down his cheeks in thin rivulets. "Hang on Sammy…" Dean gasped, struggling to keep them both afloat now. The shoreline of the river was only about seven or eight feet away but the racing water was going to make that short distance more challenging.

He remembered their father explaining that if you ever get caught in a riptide or any other strong current to swim diagonally in order to break the force. He hoped that was true for rapids as well. Keeping his lifeless brother clutched in his arms, Dean began to cut diagonally across the river, the swift water trying desperately to drag him down again. He pushed forward, ignoring the currents. He come this far and wasn't about to give up now. The water became shallower, his feet digging into the soft ground as he got closer to the shore and he was able to stand completely. He dragged Sam onto the shore, never so glad to see sand in his life. Stumbling from sheer exhaustion and cold, he fell to his knees on the damp ground and panted heavily.

A break was something he couldn't afford right now though and he crawled over to Sam, cupping his face a little more violently than he meant to. "Sammy!" He shouted, trying to be heard above the river behind them. He shook the younger man roughly, cradling his face in his hands. "Sammy, answer me!"

There was no response. Sam's face had an odd waxy appearance to it, his skin pale and grayish in contrast with his dark hair. The wound in his side was still bleeding sluggishly, the water dripping from his clothes forming a pink puddle near his side. The arrow was still in there, the shaft broken until only about an inch of the wood was visible through his shirt.

"Shit…don't do this to me Sammy…" Dean begged breathlessly, pressing his fingers to the younger man's throat in a desperate attempt to find a pulse. He couldn't feel anything, his hands trembling and numb. "Dammit!" He growled, moving his fingers and pressing down harder against his brother's neck. Still nothing. "God dammit Sam!" He moved his hand and leaned over, pressing his ear against Sam's chest and listening carefully. The wet squish his shirt made would have been funny had the situation not been so deadly serious. No heartbeat.

"No…no no no!" Dean shook his head and sat up, positioning his hands over Sam's heart and pressing down rhythmically. "You are not dying…" He said, breathing hard with each compression. "Do you hear me…?!" He counted to thirty and stopped, leaning over and covering Sam's mouth with his own. He watched from the corner of his eye as both breaths went in easily, causing the younger man's chest to rise slightly. Satisfied with that, he sat back up and re-positioned his hand, beginning compressions again.

The minutes stretched on endlessly, nothing but the dull roar of the river in the background. "Please Sammy…please…" Dean whispered, breathing into him again. _Come back to me kiddo…come on… _His arms were shaking and he was breathing hard from the exertion his body was going through but he didn't care. Tears were streaming down his face, slightly warmer than the water that clung to his skin. He clasped he hands against Sam's chest again and began pressing down once more. "Come on Sam…come on…." _Please don't leave me…_

Suddenly Dean felt a shudder beneath his hands and Sam let out gurgled coughed, water emitting from his mouth. He gagged and coughed, his breath coming in shuddering gasps, and his eyes opened slowly. "Ngh…D'n…?"

Dean gasped in relief and touched his brother's face gently. "Hey Sammy…" He whispered, unable to keep his voice from cracking as he spoke. "Hey kiddo…you're going to be okay…"

"C…old…" Sam mumbled, shivering faintly and quickly losing his fight to stay conscious. His eyes rolled back a little his body began to go limp once more.

"Whoa whoa…no going to sleep, Sammy…" Dean said, shaking the younger man a little. He saw his brother's hazel eyes focus on him for a few seconds and he smiled. "I know you're cold kiddo but you have to stay awake for a just a little while long, okay? Think you can do that for me?" He lifted him just enough off the ground to gather him in his arms and hold him close. He was soaked and he'd left the bag containing all of their clothes and sleeping bags back on that cliff. And what was worse, the sun had disappeared behind a layer of clouds that looked like they wanted to produce nothing but rain. The wind whipped around them coldly, causing both boys to shiver beneath their water-logged clothing. Also, he had no idea where they were now and there was still a pretty good chance that those hunters were out in the woods somewhere. They were very definitely screwed.

Sam's shivering increased and it was becoming increasingly hard for him to stay awake. "Dean…" He whispered, his voice barely audible over the river.

"I know Sammy…I know…" Dean gently brushed the wet hair from his brother's forehead and looked into the trees. Following the river should take them back to the Ranger's Station but it would take at least half a day and Sam was injured. "Shit…" He breathed, tightening his hold on the younger man unconsciously. All of the walkie-talkies and cell phones were back in the bag as well. "Shit shit…"

Something rustled in the trees behind them and Dean was instantly alert, rounding to face the woods. He laid Sam back down on the ground, very unsettled with the fact that the kid had gone unconscious again but knowing he couldn't worry about that right now. He stood slowly, stepping in front of his little brother and glaring into the trees. If those hunters wanted his brother then they were going to have to go through him first…

The trees rustled again, closer this time, and Dean felt the muscles in his back tense. He dropped into a lower crouch, waiting for whatever it was to strike.

"I've been looking for you…" A raspy voice whispered from the trees and Dean felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a dark figure emerged from the trees.

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**Dun dun dun!! Who could it be?! One of the hunters?! The Park Ranger?! See you in the next chapter!! =P**


	7. Chosen

**Ohh, who is the mysterious new comer?? Read and find out!! :D**

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Dean was on his feet in an instant, standing protectively over his unconscious younger brother. He was shivering from the icy water and the exertion of fighting the rapids but he wasn't about to let anything happen to Sam…not again. "You stay away from us…" He growled, glaring at the darkened figure.

The person ignored him and shuffled out of the trees, coming to a stop in front of Dean. All together, they stood about five feet tall with rounded shoulders and their face hidden by a dark brown, hooded cloak. "I'm here to help." The raspy voice explained, the attention shifting to Sam as they took another step forward.

"Stay the hell away from him!" Dean snapped, placing himself between the new comer and his brother. "I don't know who the hell you are but you're not coming anywhere near my brother!"

There was a low, piercing howl from deep within the surrounding forest and the hooded stranger turned to face the woods. They shifted uncomfortably and turned back. "There is no time! You must trust me!"

Dean hesitated, keeping his eyes leveled on the hooded being. He knew better than to trust a total stranger but he didn't really see a way out of it. Sam was hurt and freezing and he needed to get him some help as soon as possible. Not only that but those wolves and hunters were still stalking around somewhere in the forest and another round with them would probably end in disaster. "Fine…" He mumbled finally, crouching down next to Sam. "Hey…Sammy…" He reached out and tapped the younger man on the cheek gently, relieved when Sam moaned. "Come on kiddo, we gotta go…" Without waiting for a response, he looped Sam's arm over his shoulder and stood slowly. To his surprise, the hooded stranger appeared on the other side of his lifeless brother and looped his other arm around their neck as well. Another howl, this one a little closer, echoed throughout the trees and the air seemed to grow colder.

"We must go…" The hooded person whispered, taking a step toward the trees.

"No way!" Dean protested, pulling more of Sam's weight onto his shoulder. "We just came from there!" Going back into the woods was one of the very last things he wanted to do; it was right up there with jumping back into the river.

"You don't have a choice boy!" The stranger growled back, their voice taking on harsher, more urgent tone. "Either you trust me and allow me to help you or he dies!"

The realization stopped anymore protest Dean had as he looked to Sammy. The younger man was pale, his breathing coming shallow pants as he stood. Blood still oozed from the wound in his side and he knew that if they didn't get that arrow out soon then Sam would be in a lot more trouble than he already was. With a soft sigh, Dean nodded. "Alright…lead the way…"

Without another word, the stranger walked forward and lead them through the trees and into the darkened forest.

**OOOOO**

After about ten minutes of walking, they stopped in front of a tiny long-abandoned cabin hidden behind a charred, cracked tree trunk. Tiny animal bones hung from string in the surrounding trees, a few black symbols painted on the trees as well. The outside of the cabin was covered in drawings and symbols, thin fragments of glass and sharp stone forming a wide ring around the building. Smoke was rising from somewhere in the cabin and the only window glowed dimly.

"Take him inside." The hooded stranger insisted, shifting the younger man into Dean's arms and letting go of Sam, pushing open the door. Dean shrugged Sam's arm a little higher onto his shoulder and stepped inside. The tiny cabin was surprisingly warm and open, a small fire crackling in the hearth against the wall. A mattress had been pushed up against one wall and a tiny kitchen sat in the corner. There was a thick rug thrown across the floor, a table with two chairs, and small stool sitting next to the door. Decorative designs covered the walls and bowls filled with feathers and stones of all different kinds lined the window sill and floor.

"Put him near the fire. I will return soon." Their mysterious guide said, closing the door and disappearing back into the trees before Dean could say anything else. The wind ripped through the trees like an icy blade, rattling the thin window pane and tossing leaves and brush up against the edges of the cabin. However, despite the weather which was rapidly turning bad outside, the tiny, one-room cabin actually felt safe.

"Come on Sammy…let's get you warmed up, huh?" Dean half-dragged, half-carried his little brother over to the fire and carefully laid him down on the rug that covered the floor. He quickly stripped Sam of his jeans, tossing the soaked clothing across the room. Swiping a pocket knife from his own jeans, he carefully sliced through the fabric of Sam's shirt, peeling it away from his wound. The arrow was broken, still protruding from his side like a gruesome ornament. He would need help removing it and being alone without any kind of first aid kit to use at the moment he was faced with the option of just leaving it there for the time being. Time to improvise.

He carefully wadded up Sam's shirt and pressed it over the ugly wound. Sam shifted and winced, eyes fluttering slightly in pain. "Shh…it's okay Sammy…I gotcha…." Dean whispered, brushing his brother's hair from his face gently. He reached over and grabbed the blanket from the mattress on the floor, dragging it over to him. He bundled Sam in the blanket, pulling him into his lap and rubbing his arms briskly through the material. "There…better, right?"

Sam's shivering didn't lessen at all and his lips had taken on an odd blue-ish tint to them in the flickering light of the fire. Dean was shivering as well and knew that the quickest and easiest way to get both of them warm was to share body heat. He groaned quietly in frustration. He'd been avoiding the other option like the plague but right now he didn't seem to have much of a choice. "God dammit Sam…if you ever tell anyone about this I'm going to murder you…" He grumbled, stripping off his clothes as well, careful not to move Sam too much, until he was clad in the same attire as his brother. He unwrapped the blanket from around his shivering brother and pulled the younger man to his chest, wrapping both his arms and the blanket back around him. Almost instantly, the shivering lessened and Sam began to relax against his brother's shoulder.

Dean sighed, relaxing a little as well. He was violently opposed to any kind of chick-flick moment but if it would keep Sam warm he was willing to try just about anything. He shifted a little, pressing his back against one of the closer walls and leaned back, cradling Sam in his arms. "Sorry kiddo…I'm trying to make this as non-gay as possible…" He muttered as Sam moaned weakly at the sudden, jostling movement. He kept the shredded t-shirt pressed against the wound and listened carefully to the sound of Sam's breathing. It was harsh and labored from pain and he couldn't do anything to offer the younger man any comfort.

"I gotcha Sammy…" He whispered again, rocking the younger man gently. "It's okay kiddo…I gotcha…" Sam's shivering finally lessened after a few more minutes and he relaxed completely against Dean's shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck.

The wind whipped through the trees outside, a low whistling noise accompanying the gusts. Dark clouds had filled the afternoon sky and it looked like rain was imminent. The temperature had dropped to at least 35 degrees since they'd left the campsite that morning and it didn't seem to be getting any warmer anytime soon. Looks like they were stuck here for a while.

The door pushed open and the same hooded figure shuffled inside, dragging a heavy canvas bag inside as well. "This is yours." It wasn't a question, more a statement really. The person turned back toward the door and shoved a large stone against it, effectively blocking the entrance. Dean couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. When the person turned back toward him, the cloak fell away and he realized it was an old woman.

She must have been close to eighty with dark, leathery skin and sharp black eyes that seemed wise with age. The cloak hung around her like a drape, blending in perfectly with the falling shadows outside. She walked in a shuffling motion and came to a stop next to Dean, kneeling slowly. "Why did you come here?" She asked in the same raspy voice, dark eyes searching his face. "What could have possibly brought you to this forest?"

Dean was slightly surprised by the question, unsure of how to answer. Their father had always taught them not to reveal their true profession unless absolutely necessary but he really wasn't sure he could lie his way past the woman. She seemed to be immune to the normal bullshit most people bought. "My brother and I are hunters…" He said finally, unconsciously tightening his hold on Sam. "We came here to investigate the disappearance of a few hikers."

The old woman said nothing for several minutes, her eyes taking in his features as she decided whether or not he was telling the truth. There was a low howl beyond the cabin and Dean clenched his teeth tightly. "What the hell are they?" He asked, glancing to the window.

"Spirits." She answered simply, looking to the window as well. "They're the spirits of a tribe that was massacred in these woods several hundred years ago. They're restless, angry. They have been disturbed and are now taking their vengence on anyone unfortunate enough to cross them." She leveled her dark gaze on him, her mouth forming a tight line. "The hikers you speak of, the ones who disappeared? " She glanced toward the window again. "The spirits took them…just as they are trying to take your brother."

Dean felt his eyes widen and he blinked. "What?! What the hell did Sam do?! Why do they want him?!"

The woman reached out silently and took Sam's hand in her own, turning it and revealing the cut on his palm. Dean felt his stomach drop; it was the cut Sam had gotten when he fell through the hole and found the bodies. The woman frowned, fingers brushing over the raw wound. "His blood has been spilled on their lands…they have chosen him for their next sacrifice…"

"What?!" Dean demanded, eyes widening. "No…No no no! There has to be some other way. Those…things out there can't have my brother!"

The woman looked down sadly, her eyes resting on Sam's sleeping features. "The spirits will never stop hunting him…I'm sorry but you and your brother should never have come here. Death is the only thing you will find…and that is the fate he has now been cursed with."

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**Ack!! So sorry about the cliffhanger!! I'm moving to a new apartment this week and wanted to update before things got too crazy but I've left it at a horrible place O.o I'm so sorry!! I'll update again soon!! Hope you all liked it!! :D**


	8. Just Like A Splinter

**Hello all!! Hope you've had a fantastic week!! :D On with the story!!**

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A sharp slap of wind rattled the window, tree branches and leaves scraping against the outside of the cabin. Large, heavy drops of rain began to fall, spattering the ground and causing the temperature to drop even further. There was very little doubt it would probably all freeze by morning, something that didn't help Dean in the least.

He readjusted his grip on Sam, shifting the younger man up against his shoulder gently and whispering a soft apology when he moaned. He's been racking his brain for the past twenty minutes, going through every reversal spell, seal, and charm he could remember. Too bad none of them would apply to this particular situation. Everything from their father's journal listed ways to reverse curses put on by voodoo priestesses, ghosts, some demons, etc. Nothing at all to help with a curse made by pissed off woodland spirits.

The old woman came back to where he was sitting and kneeled down, reaching out and placing her hand against Sam's forehead. She was quiet for a second, her dark eyes searching his face. "Your brother is very brave…he has a good heart."

Try telling him that Dean thought miserably, looking down at his unconscious brother. Sam was the world's worst at taking the blame for anything he couldn't fix. He still blamed himself for Jessica's death and a handful of other things that couldn't have been prevented. Dean had learned to place a stiff barrier between a case and his emotions so that it wouldn't eat him alive like it did with Sam. His little brother was a different story though; Sam couldn't build up that shield, it just wasn't in his nature. He was the perfectionist, the empathetic one; anything that managed to get past them and hurt someone else was automatically his fault. He'd been that way since he was little and had found out about their mother's death. Boy, had that been an ordeal…

"Let me see his wound." The old woman's voice broke Dean from his thoughts and he looked up. She was looking at him carefully, knowingly.

"Yeah, okay…" Dean said, gently unwrapping the blanket from around Sam. The younger man cringed slightly as the air brushed over his skin, eyes squeezing shut tightly. "Shh Sammy…its okay…" Dean whispered, rubbing his arms soothingly. He pulled the wadded t-shirt away from the broken arrow, grimacing at the startling amount of blood that had soaked through the material. The cold water had slowed the blood flow but now that Sam was warming back up the steady ooze of blood was starting all over again.

The woman leaned forward, examining the wound carefully. She brushed her fingers against the bruised skin around the arrow, pulling away slightly when Sam tensed. "This arrow must come out…" She said, standing and walking over to small area that must have served as the kitchen. She pulled out a few towels from a cabinet near the floor and filled a heavy, cast iron pot with water. Gathering the materials in her arms, she walked back over to the boys and knelt down. The pot was placed on a hook in the fireplace and the towels were laid out on the floor. She pulled one of the bowls that lined the walls to her, sifting through the items inside. She pulled out a handful of the contents: a few feathers, something thin and tiny like a mouse bone, some dried herbs and flowers, and small, jagged rock that looked like quartz. There was a small cloth pouch in the bottom of the bowl as well and she picked it up, dropping the items inside. She tied the pouch and looped it around Sam's neck, whispering a few words in a language unlike any of the ones Dean knew. It was a powerful, mystifying, and ancient. Once she was done, she looked back up at Dean and nodded. "I need you to lay him down; the arrow will come out easier that way."

Dean nodded in understanding and slowly laid Sam down on the floor, whispering nonsense as the younger man winced. "It's okay kiddo…I gotcha…" He brushed the damp hair away from Sam's face and brushed his thumb across his cheekbone. "Once we get out of here we're never going camping again…" He muttered softly, hoping the old woman didn't hear him. The very faint smile on her face made him think otherwise though. His eyes fell on the little pouch once more and he looked at her. "What is that?"

"It's a charm for protection…" She explained simply, grabbing a handful of the towels and unfolding them across her lap. "My cabin is protected from the vengeful spirits that seek you," She indicated the bowls that lined the walls and window and Dean remembered the symbols he's seen outside before entering. "But a little extra never hurts." She smiled softly but became serious as split second later. "I don't think the arrow has caused any lethal damage but…" She looked at Dean, her dark eyes softening. "Removing it will be very painful…" She touched the broken shaft softly. "The Schaduwen used barbed tips on their arrows. It made them harder to remove."

"The Schaduwen?" Dean frowned, shaking his head a little. "I've never even heard of that tribe…"

The old woman shrugged faintly and pulled the pot from the fire. "I am not surprised. It wasn't their true name, it was a nickname given to them by the Dutch settlers. It means "shades"." She looked at Dean and he nodded in silent understanding. Keeping a gentle yet firm grip on his brother, he watched as she slowly began pulling the arrow from his side.

Sam gasped sharply, eyes fluttering open in pain. He blinked rapidly, gritting his teeth and clutching at the floor. "Shh…it's okay…I gotcha…" Dean whispered, holding onto him carefully and brushing the hair away from his face. "It's okay Sammy…"

The arrow twisted again and he cried out, eyes squeezing shut in agony. It felt like someone had impaled him with a glowing hot poker and was slowly shifting it around inside, scorching anything it could come in contact with. Each tug brought forth a new wave of agony, each twist a new pain he couldn't take. He could hear Dean whispering to him, feel him touching his face, the solidity of his brother behind him, but none of that could make him forget the searing pain in his side.

Dean was trembling, eyes wide as he watched Sam writhe and cry out. He was trying to hold him still but his grip was weak and faltering. He never could stand to see his little brother in pain and now that he was holding him down and making him endure it…it was almost too much to bear. "It's okay Sam…I swear everything will be okay…" Another twist and Sam gasped again. "I gotcha Sammy…It's okay kiddo…" He shot a look at the old woman.

She looked back, catching him in a level gaze that dared him to question her. "It's nearly out…" She said simply, looking back down at the wound. "Hold him still."

Dean nodded and gripped Sam's shoulders "Hey Sammy, I want you to listen to me, okay?" His brother's gaze managed to drift up to his face, heavy tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Dean felt his throat go dry. "Remember when we were little and you fell into the wood pile behind that old house we were investigating and got the piece of wood stuck in your leg? I told you it was like a giant splinter, right? Well this is exactly like that…this is just another bigass splinter." Sam cried out against another tug, his face damp with sweat. "Just breathe through it, Sammy…you're almost done, I swear." He looked at the old woman desperately, praying he was right.

She nodded and there was one final tug and the arrow came loose. Sam gasped sharply, body going rigid for a split second before his eyes rolled back and he went completely limp in his brother's arms.

"Sam?! Sammy?!" Dean said, shaking the younger man slightly. He pressed his fingers to Sam's throat and waited for a second, sighing in relief when he felt the steady rhythm beneath his fingertips. His pulse was a little too fast for Dean's liking but considering the events he'd just gone through he figured it was to be expected.

The old woman immediately covered the wound with one of the towel, staunching the now free blood flow. She dipped another towel into the pot beside her and laid it over the one already covering the wound. She stood slowly, walking into the kitchen area again and returning a few second later with a modern-day, plastic first aid kit. It seemed a little out of place in the tiny cabin but Dean had never been so happy to see one in his life. He knew they had one in the duffel bag but that meant getting up and letting go of Sam…something he wasn't sure he could handle right now.

The woman sifted through the bag, pulling out a single-use suture package and a few wrapped rolls of gauze. She looked at Dean, making sure he was still holding onto her patient, and nodded. She pulled the towels away, dropping them to the ground next to the pot. Dark, watery blood oozed form the wound forming tiny crimson rivers down Sam's stomach. The wound wasn't big, maybe the size of nickel, but it was bleeding heavily now that the arrow had been removed and stitching it closed was the only way to prevent more blood loss from occurring. She leaned over, carefully stitching the wound closed with expert hands. Once finished, she covered the wound with gauze and wrapped it tightly. "That should take care of it for now." She said softly, sitting back on her knees.

"Who are you?" Dean asked finally, still perplexed by everything that had happened in the past few hours.

The woman smiled softly and shook her head. "It is a long story, one that I am more than happy to tell, but not right now. You have both been through much today, you should rest while you have the chance."

"I'm fine…" Dean said, looking down at the younger man still cradled in his arms. "Besides, I have to keep and eye on him in case those things-"

"He will be fine." The woman reassured him, indicating the charm around his neck. "This charm will not last forever but for the time being he is safe. I will watch out for you both."

Dean wanted to protest more but he felt the undeniable pull of sleep tugging at his senses. Keeping a close grip on Sam, he slowly leaned back and until he was laying on the floor. "Can I at least get a name?"

The woman smiled, her eyes softening. "You may call me Saren."

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**Poor Sammy...I just can't help but torture the poor thing O.o Okay, so I promise I'll explain all about the "Schaduwen" in the next chapter I promise :D Hope you liked it!!**


	9. Of Sacrifices and Attacks

**Hello all!! Okay, so I really wanted to explain more about the tribe in this chapter but then this idea came up and I decided to hold off until the next one :D Hope that's okay!!**

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The sudden crash of a tree branch rapping against the window jolted Dean back into consciousness. He blinked, staring up at the ceiling for several seconds while his mind tried to process the events that had lead them to this place. He remembered the car ride, the trek into the woods, finding the missing campers…and then what? There was running, wolves, a sudden "thwack" as an arrow was released and a deep thudding sound as it made contact with something solid. Feeling the fear that had sprung to his chest as he watched Sam- "Sam!"

The memories came rushing back and Dean sat up abruptly, scanning the room quickly. His eyes fell on the somewhat slumped form of his little brother, back against the wall and staring at the fire that crackled and burned in the fireplace. "Sammy?"

Sam looked up slowly, his hazel eyes glassy and tired. He sat up a little straighter, arm absently wrapping across his abdomen, and offered Dean a weak, painful smile. "Hey…"

"Jesus…" Dean was fully alert in an instant and moved to his brother's side. "How ya feeling, kiddo? You alright?"

Sam nodded slowly, a slight wince accompanying the movement. "Yeah…just sore…" He grimaced again and grit his teeth. "Really sore…"

Dean made a slight face and looked down. "Sorry about that…" The bandages covering Sam's wound had taken on a faint reddish tint and he knew they were going to have to be changed soon. He looked around again, suddenly aware that the old woman, Saren wasn't in the cabin.

"She's outside." Sam answered for him, looking toward the window. The wind had kicked up, leaves and dust bouncing off the wooden walls that protected them. A cold chill crept through the chimney, swirling around in the fire-warm air and causing both boys to shiver. A storm was coming.

"How long have you been awake?" Dean asked, looking over his brother's tired, pale features. Sam looked like he had taken the road to hell and back, walking barefoot the entire time.

"Only a few minutes…" He explained, rubbing his eyes absently. "I couldn't sleep…I kept having these…nightmares…"

"About the wolves?"

The younger man looked startled, eyes going wide. "Yeah, how did you know…?"

Dean sighed and looked down for a second. "Sammy, the other day when you fell in that hole you cut your hand right?"

Sam nodded slowly and looked down at his palm. "Yeah…so?"

"Well, when you did your blood was spilled on the ground and you were chosen…" Dean couldn't bring himself to finish.

"Chosen for what?"

There was a heavy pause, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire breaking through the silence. "A sacrifice."

Sam blinked, glassy eyes staring at his brother. "A sacrifice?"

"Yeah…" Dean glared toward the window, a deep fury settling in his gut for the creatures that had hunted them. "The Indian Burial Ground you mentioned? Well, apparently their spirits aren't too happy with the whole "rest in peace" gig and have decided to take vengeance on anyone who crossed their path."

Sam was silent for a few seconds, looking down at the healing cut on his hand. "Is there anyway to reverse it?" He asked finally, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. It seemed no matter where they went he was in for some kind of trouble before the day was out.

"There is a way." A voice said from the doorway and Saren appeared back in the cabin, her dark hair wild and wind-tossed.

"There is?!" Dean exclaimed, hopping to his feet and walking over. "You told me there wasn't a way to reverse this. You said Sam was as good as dead."

Saren looked away from him to Sam and then back. "The method that I speak of is dangerous; no one who has attempted it has survived."

The older Winchester took a step backward, hopes falling instantly. "What?"

Saren simply shook her head slowly. "The only way to reverse the curse is to offer a blood sacrifice. Human blood acts a key for spirits such as this; one drop can resurrect them but it can also appease them. However, these spirits are angry, murderous beings who want nothing but the destruction of anyone who crosses them. A blood sacrifice may be your only option but no one has ever survived the ritual."

"Well what if I offer myself instead?" Dean asked, leveling his eyes with Saren.

The old woman shook her head again. "It will not work. It is not your blood they are after."

"But if I exchange myself for Sam it should be enough, right?"

"Dean, no." Sam said tiredly, attempting to stand but falling.

"Sam, just stay out of this okay?" Dean said, eyes softening a little when he saw the hopeless look the younger man gave him.

"You are not their chosen sacrifice…" Saren said, heaving a sad sigh. "They will not take you…only him."

Dean scowled and glared at the ground. "So they're just going to kill him, is that it?! There's no option other than death in the end?!"

"I'll do it…" Sam said quietly, his voice nearly lost in the howl of the wind.

"What?!" Dean rounded to his brother and looked at him incredulously. He took a step, pausing half-way. "Sammy…you can't be serious…"

"I am." The younger man said, sitting up a little straighter. "Dean, we're strong…we know how to handle these things…" He tried for a watery smile but failed. "What do I have to do?" Before Dean could reply, he turned, looking at Saren with determined eyes.

"We must wait until tomorrow night." She explained softly, glancing to the window. "The moon will be full and the ritual will hold more power."

"Sam…" Dean started but Sam shook his head.

"Dean…I can do this." He smiled. "I'll be okay, I promise."

There was a low, eerie howl outside the door, a noise that seemed the seep into the walls. The fire flickered, the windows shuddered and Sam began to tremble. Dean saw the sudden change in his brother's appearance and was at his side a split second later. "Sammy? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

The younger man tried to answer but instead of words a low, groaning sound rumbled from his throat and his body went rigid. There was a brief second when he managed to stay upright before his eyes rolled back and he went limp against the wall.

Dean caught him right before he fell, eyes widening. "Sam!" He cried, cradling the younger man against his chest tightly. Sam's back arched sharply, his head following the curve until his body made a C-shape. Saren appeared next to Dean, grabbing hold of Sam's head and holding it in her hands. She whispered a series of words Dean couldn't understand, drawing small symbols across Sam's face and chest with her fingers.

"What's happening?!" Dean demanded, tightening his grip as Sam began to convulse. The younger man's muscles contracted and stiffened sporadically, his arm catching Dean in the jaw at least twice before he could regain control. "Sammy…Sam…" Dean said desperately, unable to keep his voice from breaking near the end.

"The spirits cannot enter this house…" Saren explained, catching one of Sam's hands just before it hit her. "But they can enter his mind. They will attack him mentally…try to break him down from the inside out until there is nothing left him but death…" She whispered a few more words, putting more emphasis and power into the chant.

"Fucking spirits…aren't playing…fair…!" Dean growled, pinning Sam's arms to his side and trying to prevent him from injuring himself further. The bandages were now stained dark red, blood oozing from beneath the cloth material and streaming down Sam's stomach and hip.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, Sam's seizure stopped and he went limp in Saren and Dean's arms. The old woman sat back, slightly out of breath and for a few seconds all Dean could do was hold onto Sam. The younger man was breathing hard, blinking rapidly as he tried to regain consciousness that seemed to drift just out of reach. "You're okay Sammy…I gotcha…" Dean whispered, stroking his brother's sweat-damp hair.

Sam managed to focus for a few seconds, eyes glassy and desperate. "D'n…?" He asked, a thick stream of blood suddenly oozing from his nose and falling over his mouth.

Dean nodded, breathing a slight sigh of relief. At least Sam still knew who he was. "Yeah, buddy…it's me…" He grabbed one of the unused towels from next to the fire and gently wiped away the blood that continued to stream from Sam's nose. He'd gotten used to the visions enough to know that Sam was usually groggy and disoriented afterward. "Try to get some rest, okay Sam? I'll be here when you wake up…" He tightened his hold for emphasis and Sam didn't need anymore encouragement. His eyes fluttered closed once more and he was back in the grasp of oblivion.

Confident that Sam's breathing had evened out enough to indicate sleep, Dean looked up to Saren, his green eyes narrowing. "You have some explaining to do."

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**Sorry, I just couldn't resist torturing Sammy and causing Dean to have a mild freak out. That's horrible, I know :P See you in the next chapter!! :D**


	10. Background Check

**Hey guys!! Okay, just a forewarning, this chapter is very wordy. Lol there's alot of dialogue so I apologize for the long paragraphs but its all explained!! :D**

**So here's the rundown: I originally based the Indian Tribe off the Mohicans but wanted to avoid the cliche of using the actual name (you know, "Last of the Mohicans" and all) so instead I refered to them by the name they used for themselves**. **The Mohicans really were a relatively peaceful group but they did have some conflicts with the Dutch settlers. Most moved to Stockbridge, Mass. but not all and thats where the idea for this story came about. I know mass hysteria and suspicion can lead people to do some pretty stupid things (ie. Salem Witch Trials) so I figured the attack/massacre wouldn't be too far fetched :D I really hope you all like it!! I'm not trying to change history, I'm just playing with it :)**

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Saren sighed softly, her dark eyes drifting up to the roof of the cabin. For a long minute she was silent, as if the very idea of explaining the strange events that had transpired in the past few hours was tiring. Finally, after another released breath, she leveled her gaze back and Dean and nodded. "Alright, I suppose you have been patient enough."

In spite of the storm that began to rage outside, the inside of the cabin was unusually quiet. Saren spoke softly, barely raising her voice above a whisper, but Dean found that he could understand her just fine.

"This forest didn't always belong to the state park or even this state for that matter." The woman began slowly, looking toward the window absently. Tree branches scraped and scratched against the outside of the cabin, straining for entrance but getting nothing. "Long before the white settlers came to this land, this forest belonged to the Muhhekunneuw tribes." The wind seemed to gust a little stronger at the mention of the name, a low, eerie howl echoing through the room from the chimney. Sam shivered slightly, eyes squeezing shut in his sleep, and Dean gently reached over, brushing the hair from his face. Almost immediately, the younger man relaxed, his expression going lax in the throws of sleep.

"The first contact with the European settlers came in the 1600s; they arrived without warning and without excuse. However, the Muhhekunneuw were a peaceful tribe, content to share their lands with their new neighbors, and for a time both the settlers and the tribes flourished." Saren sighed, leaning back against the wall of the cabin and staring out into nothingness for a few seconds.

"So let me guess: everything turned to shit?" Dean quipped, drawing the older woman from her reverie.

She smiled softly as if humoring him and nodded. "Yes, I guess that would be one way of describing it." She grabbed a few pieces of tender from a rack next to the fireplace and tossed them casually into the pit. "The need for crops became apparent and the settlers began to push further into Muhhekunneuw territory, invading their lands and using them for their own. Many of the tribe members tried to protest but it never amounted to anything." The fire crackled more loudly, challenging the wind outside for a second. "Finally, most of the tribe members grew tired of the constant migration forced upon them by the settlers and simply moved out of the forest all together, settling somewhere in Massachusetts. Less than one hundred members of the original tribe stayed, determined to remain in their homeland."

There was another low howl outside, closer and more menacing this time. Sam winced, arching his back slightly and moaned in his sleep. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared across his forehead causing the paleness of his skin to look even worse. He thrashed slightly, loose fist connecting weakly with Dean's leg. The older man frowned, grabbing his brother hand and squeezing it gently. "Shh…its okay Sammy…I'm right here…" His voice seemed to abate whatever nightmare Sam was having and he relaxed once more. Dean kept his hold on his little brother's hand. "Go on…"

Saren nodded and continued. "A tense truce had formed between the settlers and the remaining members of the tribe. As long as the settlers didn't push farther into their land, the peace could be maintained. However, the settlers were superstitious, frightened of the Muhhekunneuw tribe. They were convinced the hunters could summon spirits that aided them in their travels; dark shadow spirits with no souls and an unending hunger that kept them searching for eternity. They refused to let their children out at night, refused to have any unnecessary contact with the tribe members; they treated them like lepers." She sighed sadly and shrugged. "One afternoon, a young boy from the tribe wandered into the settlement that had been established on their lands. He didn't stay long; long enough to be noticed by the people in the settlement. They ran him off and he wasn't seen again. A few days later, a fever swept through the settlement, killing nearly half of the town's population."

Saren grabbed a long, charred stick from beside the fireplace and absently rifled through the coals. "There was no proof that the boy had caused the fever or even the Muhhekunneuw tribe for that matter. But, as it usually happened in situations such as this, the settlers were looking for a scapegoat to explain the sudden illness and deaths and the remaining tribe members happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They located the Muhhekunneuw village and destroyed it, killing every man, woman, and child who was unfortunate enough to be there." The coals popped and crackled under her gentle prodding, the warm glow illuminating her aged face. "A few survived, most lucky enough to be away from the village at the time, but the massacre was devastating."

"A few hunters remained, the very last of their kind, and their rage could not be restrained. They knew these woods better than anyone…" Saren paused, gesturing vaguely toward the fogged glass. Outside, the wind continued to howl and berate the tiny cabin. "They would paint themselves black, slipping through the darkness of the slumbering forest and taking the settlements by surprise. Just as their families had been slaughtered, they spared no one."

Dean shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait… You said there were only a couple of them left by the time it was all said and done. Seems the villagers outnumbered them a couple hundred to one."

Saren shrugged slightly. "No one ever saw them until it was too late. The settlers began calling them Schaduwen because they would appear like shadows from the night. Some said they came in the forms of wolves, some said they appeared as men. Either way, the last members of the Muhhekunneuw tribe were going to have their revenge."

"Okay, so why are they still here?" Dean asked finally, looking between Sam and the window. "I mean, yeah, it sucks about their people and what happened to them; shit like that happened all the time back then. But they got their revenge. Why not move on? All of the settlers that arrived here way back when are dead and gone by now."

"It doesn't matter." Saren shook her head, dark eyes watching the curl and wisps of the smoke. "The last members of the Muhhekunneuw tribe vowed vengeance for their people; a solemn promise that as long as intruders continued to invade their forests they would strike them down at any cost. True, their original enemies may be long since deceased by now but their hatred extends to anyone who sets foot in their territory. With the last Schaduwen's final breath, he vowed that as long as the spirits of his people were forced to suffer, so would anyone who ventured into their lands."

Dean sighed heavily, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Okay, so what does this have to do with you? I mean you know all of this and you're still out here in the middle of the damn woods with these things. How does all of that tie in?"

"I am a Speaker. I serve as a channel between the spirit world and the human world."

"Well, tell the spirits to bite it, alright? They can't have Sam." The emphasize his point, he tightened his grip on the younger man's hand.

Saren shook her head. "It is not that simple. I may communicate with the spirits, yes, but I cannot sway them. Believe me, I have tried in the past and with no avail. I'm here to appease them, to act as boundary between their world and ours but, as you can see, I am getting old. It is becoming much more difficult for me to maintain such control over such angry spirits."

"So what happens when you die?" Dean hated how snarky he sounded but all of this was really beginning to piss him off. Spirits be damned, they weren't taking his brother. "The spirits get all pissy cause they don't have anyone to talk to anymore and throw a fit? Skin some more campers like they did to those last four?"

The older woman laughed humorlessly. "No, when I die a new Speaker will replace me. This has been the job of my family for generations. When one leaves, another steps in. It is a never-ending cycle, one we have not been able to break in over four hundred years."

"Suck."

Saren allowed a faint smile and said nothing.

"Okay, so this blood offering-" Dean never got a chance to finish before Saren had cut him off.

"Its too dangerous." She said simply.

"No, facing certain death is too dangerous." Dean shot back, not willing to accept that for an answer. "You said that if Sam was willing to try then it could be done."

"Yes, but that was to get him to drop the subject and be done with it." Saren sighed heavily and shook her head. "Young man, no one has ever survived the offering. The spirits are not interested in compromise, they are only after death." She looked down, dark eyes flickering in the firelight. "The full moon helps the ritual but it also makes the Schaduwen more powerful. If your brother chooses to perform the offering ritual, he will certainly die. There is no other option." There was another heavy pause and she let out a slow breath. "My seals and barriers can only hold us for so long…the more we resist, the more desperate the Schaduwen become." She looked over to Sam briefly. "The attacks will only get worse from here…"

"But if we do nothing he dies too, is that it?!"

Saren said nothing but looked down sadly. Dean felt the breath catch in the back of his throat like he was choking. He wanted some kind of answer, anything, but the silence said it all. Unless they figured out how to resolve all of this, Sam would be dead by the next night.

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**So was it okay?? Did the explanation suck?? Let me know what you think!! :D**


	11. Freddy Kruger Is a Boy Scout

**Hey guys!! Sorry its take me so long to update O.o School has been crazy!! Okay, so I'll apologize for the graphic description of Sam's dream but, you know, nightmares are usually pretty graphic lol. Hehe, also the nightmare was inspired by Newspaper Taxis who really wanted to see what Sammy was dreaming of. Hope I didn't disappoint!! Anyway, hope you enjoy it!! :D**

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The darkness was impenetrable, suffocating and oppressing in every direction. There were vibrations of sound, echoing all around him, but it didn't seem like normal noise. It was magnified, electric, he could feel it in his bones. He wasn't physically aware of where he was but he knew his feet were on solid ground, his breath coming out in ragged, cold gasps.

Sam blinked, not seeing anything. It was odd how even in the darkest forests and on the darkest nights they'd been hunting, even a little bit of light managed to illuminate the surroundings. They'd hunted in caves, in tunnels, basements, warehouses, places where the lights had gone out years ago and even then there was at least a faint glow of something. But not here. Wherever "here" was. The darkness felt like an actual entity, a living force that was doing its best to suck him down into the furthest reaches of the abyss. A place where not even memory can find you.

Sam shifted, trying to take a step forward, but his feet were welded to the blackness. What he at first has taken for solid earth was now becoming soft and spongy, dipping beneath his weight. The air, originally icy and stinging as it entered his lungs, became warm and heavy, thickening so suddenly he gasped. And then came the smell. As a hunter it was something you never get used to and sure as hell never forget; hell, most people would never forget that smell if they were unlucky enough to encounter it. It was the stench of decay, the rotting of corpses too numerous to mention. The ground shifted again and Sam fell to one knee, his hand landing in something soft and putrid. He pulled back immediately, fighting the gag in the back of his throat. Even though he couldn't see in the darkness, he could feel thick, cold blood sliding down his forearm, weaving its way in and out of his fingers making dark rivers.

His knee sank deeper, something thick and horrible soaking through his jeans. He tried to back up, stand up, anything to get out of what ever he'd been sitting on. Something strange happened then (well, stranger than anything else that had happened in the past ten minutes). A dull silver glow appeared above him an overhead light being turned on with a dimmer switch. The glow got brighter and brighter until Sam had to shield his eyes and look down. The minute his eyes were lowered, he felt his stomach drop to his feel.

Bodies. He'd been sitting/kneeling in a massive pile of decaying bodies. Skin fell away in chunks, bone gleaming in the brightness, clumps of hair falling out of cracked and broken skulls. Dead, vacant eyes stared out at him, faces twisted into horrible grins and shining teeth encouraging him to smile along. There were hundreds of them, just piled one on top of the other and left as a road block for anyone who happened to be traveling along this macabre path.

Sam tumbled backwards, landing hard on a patch of darkness and gasping at the mountain of death. A few of the bodies shifted, rolling down toward him thanks to the shift in their formation. Sam scrabbled away, his back hitting something solid behind him. He turned carefully, looking up into the dark eyes of a black-painted man above him. The man held a dangerously sharp spear in one hand, a dagger in the other, and Sam was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The first slash took him by surprise, catching him just along the ribs and he gasped, falling back and covering the wound with his hand. This time the blood was bright red and vivid, not the blackening ooze that ran spilled out of the corpses. The man made another lunge, barreling into Sam like a freight train, and knocking him against one of the firmer bodies. A head landed on his shoulder and black spray freckled his cheek. The shaft of the spear was slammed into his throat and Sam gagged sharply, fighting against it. The knife was raised high and swung down, barely missing him he lashed out and sent the man sprawling into the darkness.

He recovered, dark eyes murderous as he crouched, eying Sam like a panther. "You will suffer as we suffered." He snarled viciously and Sam realized, rather surprisingly, that he could understand the man even though he wasn't speaking English. "Your blood will be your redemption." Before Sam could blink, another slash caught him in the arm and he fell to the side.

He tried to speak but no words left his mouth, his voice dying in his throat. There was a tremor below him, as if the entire world was crumbling into nothingness, and his breath caught in his throat again. Something that looked startlingly like a wolf was making a leap for him but it disappeared in a wave of light. Sam jerked upright with a strangled gasp.

**OOOOO**

Dean had been sitting silently for the better part of an hour, staring at the crackle and pop of the flames that danced in the fireplace. He chewed his lower lip absently, his mind circling through a couple hundred things at once. He thought of every charm, spell, and incantation he could remember from their Dad's journal but no solution was coming to mind. It would have been nice to have the journal right now, just in case, but it had gone with Sam over the cliff. The journal was wrapped in an air-tight bag so no real harm would come to it, but it was still gone. Absolutely perfect.

Saren had disappeared outside, replacing a few of the charms around her cabin. She promised they were safe but made it a point to check the symbols and other decorations that adorned her house. The storm continued to rage outside, wind slapping against the walls of the cabin with harsh ferocity. Hell, the little drawings and charms wouldn't do a lick of good if the house blew over.

Sam shifted beside him, his eyes squeezing shut a little more tightly. He'd been sleeping restlessly all night, constantly moving and shifting to get into a more comfortable position. Dean looked over, reaching out to brush the hair away from his brother's face. "Shh...its okay Sammy..." He whispered, frowning at the heat that radiated from Sam's skin. Great, the last thing he needed was a fever. He paused, pressing his hand to Sam's forehead. Yep, definitely the start of a fever. "You can't do anything halfway, can you kiddo?" He mumbled half to himself and half to Sam, getting up slowly and making his way into the makeshift kitchen. He wet a washcloth and was just turning around when Sam gasped sharply, body stiffening suddenly.

"Sammy?" He said, running and sliding on his knees next to the younger man. He cupped Sam's face, wincing at the fever-hot skin, and shook him gently. "Sam...its Dean. I need you to wake up, buddy, okay? Come on Sammy...wake up..."

Sam's eyes opened just enough for Dean to see nothing but white as the rolled back in his head. His body was still completely rigid, breathing harsh and ragged.

"Shit...come on, Sammy...don't do this..." Dean tightened his hold, clutching the younger man to his chest and holding him still. He knew that in the event of a seizure, holding the victim down was more dangerous than just letting it happen but it was instinct. He needed to hold him. "Its okay...everything's okay..." He whispered, hoping that somewhere deep in his subconscious, Sam could hear him.

The younger man jerked suddenly, crying out harshly. The abrupt movement caused Dean to loose his grip and Sam fell to the floor, limbs regaining some of their mobility as he curled onto his side. He choked, coughing uselessly against an unseen force. Blood stained the bandage on his side, bright red and angry, but it wasn't coming from the arrow wound; at least not all of it. "Jesus Christ..." Dean gasped, his eyes landing on the bleeding slash that had suddenly appeared on Sam's other side. He grabbed hold of Sam again, hands flying to cover the new injury.

"Sam! Wake up! Now!" Dean demanded, using his best "dad" voice. Sam was trembling all over, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out across his pale skin. "Sam, wake up!" Dean tried again, shaking the younger man a little more forcefully than he should have.

The door opened behind him and Saren was suddenly at his side. "What happened?" She asked, managing to keep her voice level and calm.

"He was fine a minute ago and now its gone all Nightmare on fucking Elm Street over here! Apparently Freddy Kruger is a boy scout!" Dean snapped, his eyes widening as another gash appeared on Sam's arm, streaking down his shoulder. "Sam!"

Saren grabbed his injured arm and held it in her grasp, whispering silently.

Dean, however, wasn't satisfied with the whisper method and shook his brother again. "Sam! Wake up now! That's an order!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Sam's eyes flew open and he jerked up, grasped onto Dean tightly. His arms circled around his brother's neck and he sat trembling against Dean's shoulder. The older man returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around Sam's back, holding him up. "Hey...I gotcha..." He whispered breathlessly, unable to keep his voice from cracking as he spoke. "I gotcha Sammy..."

Sam was shaking like a leaf, his face pale and eyes glassy from a combination of the fever and the nightmare. He tried to say something, words turning into a jumbled mess before he gave up and went limp in Dean's arms once more.

"Sam...?" Fingers pressed to his throat, catching the swift, erratic heartbeat that thudded there. Dean sighed, closing his eyes and stroking his fingers through Sam's hair. "God...take about five years off my life why don't you?" He muttered to his unconscious sibling, unable to release his hold on him any time soon.

Saren watched him carefully, her dark eyes searching his face. "I'll make something to bring down his fever. After that, we must keep him conscious as much as possible. If he is awake, it will prevent the Schaduwen from finding him."

Dean nodded silently, keeping his eyes glued to the shuddering rise and fall of Sam's back as he breathed. Hell, after this he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon either.

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**There ya go!! Hope you liked it!! :D**


	12. Stupid Boston Tea Party

**I'm so sorry this took me so long to upload O.o College sucks!! Anyway, this a bit of a filler chapter simply because I wanted to play with Sammy being delerious and sick with a fever :P I'm cruel, I know lol. Hope you all like it!! :D**

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"You still with me, Sammy?" Dean asked, eying his barely conscious little brother sitting across from him.

Sam looked like Hell warmed over to be perfectly honest. He was pale, face and neck flushed with fever, his hazel eyes glassy and struggling to stay open. However, despite the burning desire to fall back asleep, he knew better. Dean had explained his theory on the nightmares and how it was the easiest way to get to Sam without the Schaduwen actually getting in the cabin. Sam didn't really need to be told though, he's experienced it first hand. "I'm super..." He mumbled, leaning back against the wall once more. It hurt to talk, the fever assaulting his body making his joints ache painfully. The new wounds he's sustained from the dream hadn't helped either.

Dean watching him for a second, not saying anything. Given any other circumstance, he'd gladly let Sam sleep off the fever and get enough rest so his injuries could heal. However, in this particular case, falling asleep meant nearly certain death or further injury. He couldn't let either happen. Sam was shivering, body trembling with each tremor, and he took a shaky breath. He was wrapped in a blanket, sitting in front of the fire, and it was still freezing. When he'd first regained consciousness, he wanted to know what had happened to his clothes and why he was clad in nothing but boxers but had never gotten around to asking. When Dean had woken him up earlier, he'd somehow managed to gain a pair of jeans and a denim shirt from some unknown source. He was dressed a little warmer now than he was before but it still wasn't enough.

Dean watched his shivering brother for a few more seconds before he finally gave it. He scooted over to where Sam was sitting and pulled the younger man to his side. "C'mere you damn chihuahua." He muttered, wrapping his arms around Sam and holding him close.

The younger man immediately fell into the warmth and let out a soft sigh of contentment. "Thought you...hated chick-flick moments..." He breathed, laughing softly as Dean shot him a look. "This qualifies..."

"Yeah, well then I guess you better not tell anyone about this, huh?" Dean shot back, tightening his hold as Sam continued to shiver. His brother was one of the only weaknesses he had in this world; anything pertaining to Sam had to ability to immediately bring him to his knees. Manly stoicism be damned.

"Its like the Notebook..."

"Dude, I'm really upset that you've watched that. I'll be honest."

"Jess..."

Dean nodded slightly, the conversation stopping almost immediately. Sam would have done anything for Jessica, even watch an incredibly touchy-feely movie like the Notebook.

Saren pushed the door open carefully, a sharp gust of cold wind following along behind her and causing the fire to flare faintly. Her arms were full of firewood and various green herbs from outside. She walked over to the fire, dropping a few of the pieces of wood into the hearth and setting the rest aside for later. She nodded to the older Winchester and walked into the kitchen area of the cabin, filling a glass with water and mixing in a few dried herbs as well as the fresher bundle she had in her hand. A few minutes later she appeared next to them, dropping down in front of Sam and peering at him.

Sam looked back, trying to think of anything but the cold that was wracking his body. "Th-thanks..." He shivered, trying to smile.

Saren smiled in return and reached out, brushing her hand across his face in a motherly way. She made a slight face and handed the glass to Dean. "Make sure he drinks all of it." She said, standing slowly and walking over to retrieve a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Dean looked at the glass of water, making a slight face. "What is this?"

"Willow bark, Yarrow, and passiflora incarnata. It will help bring his fever down."

"Can't we just give him some aspirin?"

Saren shook her head and returned with a washcloth soaked in rubbing alcohol. "No, the aspirin will thin his blood too much; it will make him worse." She pressed the washcloth to Sam's face and the younger man jumped slightly. "Shh..." Saren soothed, running to cloth over his face and neck.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sudden iciness against his skin. He shivered again, a strange combinations of fire and ice racing along his skin. It was painful and exhausting trying to figure out which sensation to deal with first. "Feelings suck..." He mumbled for lack of anything else to say.

Dean smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah they do, kiddo. Come on, down the hatch." He started to hand Sam the glass but changed his mind when he noticed how badly the younger man was still shaking. Instead, he held it up to Sam's lip, tilting it forward just enough so it wouldn't spill. Sam took a sip, made a face, but didn't have time to think about it before he was forced to swallow again. The remedy wasn't bad, it tasted a lot like some sort of tea, but doing much of anything other than breathing hurt. Hell, even breathing hurt. The last of the mixture drained from the cup and Sam coughed unintentionally.

"You okay?" Dean asked carefully, setting the glass back down on the floor.

Sam nodded weakly, leaning heavily into his brother's arms. "Stupid Boston Tea Party..." He mumbled, slumping forward a bit. Dean grabbed him, catching Saren's eye in confusion.

She shook her head dismissively, pressing the washcloth to Sam's forehead again. "Its the fever." She reassured him, turning her attention back to Sam. "He'll be fine, the medicine will bring the fever down shortly."

Dean nodded but it didn't do anything to placate the concern he still felt. He knew the fever would go down but it was a matter of keeping Sam conscious until they could figure out how to get out of the situation. Whatever that may entail.

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**So there it is, I'm really sorry its so short O.o Hope you all liked it!! :D**


	13. Late Night Raid

**Geez, sorry it took me so long to update!! O.o Hope you all like it!! :D**

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The afternoon passed by slowly, the steady howl of the wind outside shaking the windows faintly. It had taken a little over and hour to get Sam's fever under control; it was nowhere near what Dean would have preferred but it was definitely better than it had been. Keeping the younger man awake was still a challenge though. There had been several times where the fever and exhaustion tried to win the duel between sleep and consciousness but Sam had somehow managed to stay awake for most of the day. Dean would allow five minutes intervals of sleep every once in a while but any longer than that and he was afraid it would give the Schaduwen an easier target.

Saren remained seated beside the boys for most of the day, her dark eyes often wandering to the window and watching the leaves bounce off the glass. She was deep in thought, tiny concentration lines appearing between her eyes as she thought. Dean was tempted to ask what she was thinking about but he held back; he was almost afraid to know.

The gray sunlight began to dip behind the trees, casting the forest into a dull afternoon glow. The rain/snow seemed to be over for the most part but it didn't mean that the remaining water still left on the trees and underbrush wouldn't freeze before the night was over. There was still no telling how far away they were from the car or the Ranger's station for that matter and Dean just hoped that they were still able to make it back once all of this was over.

Saren stood slowly, walking over to the door and opening it carefully. "I'll be right back." She said over her shoulder as she stepped out into the frigid wind. A heavily silence fell in her absence.

"Have you talked to dad yet?" Sam asked suddenly, glassy eyes focused on the window.

Dean blinked, taken aback by the question. "What?"

"I said have you talked to dad yet?" Sam repeated, turning slowly to face his older brother. He was still bundled up in a layer of thick blankets, dark hair clinging to his forehead thanks to the fever that refused to dissipate completely.

Dean was a little confused by the question; Sam hadn't asked about their father in a while. "No, I haven't. Not yet at least. Why?"

Sam was silent for a minute, the question hanging in the air. "Just wondering..."

"No, you're not getting off the hook that easily." Dean leveled his gaze with Sam's. "Why?"

The younger man shrugged faintly. "Just..." He paused, blinking slowly. "You know...if anything happens..."

"Sam, stop." Dean cut him off gently. "You're going to be fine, alright? We'll figure a way out of this. We always do."

Sam laughed humorlessly, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter. The shift caused the raw wound in his side to throb sharply and he grit his teeth in an effort to hide it. "Dean, look...you know as well as I do what our options are right now...None of them sound too good."

"Yeah, I know our options kinda suck right now but I'm not giving up and neither are you." Dean's voice was firm and determined, there would be no disagreement of any kind if he had his way.

Sam wanted to argue, protest, do anything, but he didn't have the energy to start it. He sighed heavily and leaned back to take some of the pressure off his side. "Just promise me something..."

"It depends on what it is."

"If things get bad...I mean, really bad...I want you to go. Don't try anything stupid...just go."

"Sorry, no can do Sammy." Dean said, waving the request off with a flick of his wrist.

"Dean, I'm serious."

"So am I. I haven't left you yet so why do you think I'm going to start now?" Dean stared at Sam and Sam stared right back. There was a silent understanding between them. Sam knew it was a stupid thing to ask in the first place, Dean would rather die than leave him anywhere but then he felt the same way. Nothing to do but wait it out.

Saren stepped back inside a few minutes later, her arms full of firewood. She glanced between the boys, one eyebrow raising slightly. "Is everything alright?"

Dean nodded and flashed her a faint smile. "Yeah, just a little conversation between me and my brother." He winked at Sam.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

**OOOOO**

Dean blinked suddenly, shifting himself into a sitting position. He wasn't sure when he has fallen asleep but he knew what had woken him up. The low, feral growl outside the window and door could have been part of the reason. Sam and Saren were both sitting rigidly, their eyes glued to the door. Saren held thick staff in her hands, strange symbols and words carved into the polished wood. Sam clutched a dagger in one hand though Dean was pretty sure it would be petty useless against the spectral wolves and hunters. He straightened carefully, keeping his head below window-level and made his way over to Sam's side. "What happened?" He asked quietly, not sure why he was whispering. Whatever was outside was pretty much aware of their presence.

"There's something outside." Sam answered simply, never taking his eyes off the door.

"The Schaduwen..." Saren elaborated, dark eyes narrowed. "They know he's here." She looked at Dean and the older hunter clenched his teeth.

"What should we do?" He asked, unconsciously placing himself between the door and Sam just in case.

Saren shook her head slowly. "They cannot get in. This cabin is protected."

There was a sudden crash against one wall and all three jumped. "Yeah, well I don't think they care about magical cabin rules." Dean said, pulling a handgun from the waistband of his jeans. Even when everything else was lost, the handgun never left his side.

Another crash, almost as if something heavy was being thrown against the thin walls. Wood creaked and groaned against the pressure, shifting slightly inward. "I don't think it can take much more of this..." Dean said under his breath, watching as the wooden walls bowed and splintered to the inside.

There was a deep, rumbling howl from outside, loud enough to cause the windows to rattle in their frames. Then, as suddenly as the attack had started, a heavy silence filled the night outside.

The three occupants of the cabin waited and held their breath for several minutes after the attack stopped. It was quiet again, unsettling. Dean stood slowly, holding his hand out to keep Sam from following him. He held a finger to his lips and crept over to the window. He pressed his back against the splintered wall and peeked above the window frame out into the blackness of the forest. It was like looking into a cave; nothing but darkness in every direction. Which was exactly why he never saw the dark shape until it crashed through the window and on top of him.

He fired his gun in surprise, the bullet exiting the roof of the cabin somewhere above him. He saw Sam jump to his feet and make a run for the black beast on top of him. "Sam no!" He yelled, trying to prevent his brother from taking on the thing that was more than likely here to kill him.

There was another crash as the wall behind him burst to the inside. Heavy beams of wood collapsed on top of them, dark shapes moving in from the shadows of the forest. Dean was struggling to get up, the push the giant monstrosity off of him so he could get to Sam. "Sammy!" He yelled, watching as the dark figures encircled his brother.

The remaining wall above him shuddered and toppled over, covering him a massive pile of broken wood. He was pinned, stuck beneath the heavy crossbeams. It took several minutes of struggling and cursing on his part to remove himself from the wooden cage, the cold shine of star light above him illuminating the ruin of the house. Dean stood quickly, looking around. The cabin was completely ruined, nothing more than a pile of wood now. "Sam?!" He called, looking around in all directions for any sign of his brother. There was a faint noise behind him and he whipped around, searching the wreckage. He could hear Saren struggling beneath the wood as well a few feet away from him, her arm just barely visible beneath a large sheet of wood. Running to where she was, he quickly and carefully pulled the wood off of her, helping her to her feet. "Are you alright?" He asked, relieved to see that she appeared to be unharmed.

Saren nodded slightly and looked in dismay at her ruined cabin. There was no time to grieve though. "Where is your brother?" She asked, looking carefully at Dean.

The younger man felt a cold weight settle in his stomach as he looked around once more for any sign of his little brother. Sam was gone.

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**Oh no!! Sammy's gone!! Will Saren and Dean find him in time?! O.o**


	14. Consumed

**Hey guys!! :D Hope you're all doing wonderfully!! Poor Sammy isn't I'm afraid and won't be until about two chapters from now so I'll try to keep the update coming as soon as I can!! :D Hope you like it!!**

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Long, gnarled branches tore at his skin as he ran, sharp and dangerous in the darkness. He was covered in cuts and scrapes on every available exposed surface but it didn't matter, he kept running.

_Gotta draw them away...Gotta get them away from the cabin..._Sam thought, each deep breath piercing his chest like a blade. The wound in his side and the others he'd managed to accumulate over the past few days had started bleeding again, hot blood streaking down his frozen skin as he ran. The pain was excruciating, searing and throbbing with every movement but he couldn't stop. He had to keep running.

He'd just manged to avoid the complete destruction of the cabin and knew that it would take nothing for those things to kill both Dean and Saren to get to him. He couldn't let that happen. No, he **wouldn't** let that happen. Using what little strength he's regained, he managed to dodge the collapse and made sure the Schaduwen saw him before he bolted off into the blackened trees. _Get them away from the cabin...Get them away from Dean..._That was the only thing on his mind as he raced through the darkness.

He had no idea where he was going, how far he'd gone, or even if they were still following him for that matter. What if they'd stayed behind to get rid of Saren and Dean? What if they were hurt and he'd just left them there to fend for themselves? So many questions raced through his mind it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. Which was why with was easy for him to miss the handy protruding stump in the middle of the path he'd been running on.

His foot caught the wooden edge and sent him sprawling onto the forest floor. It was cold, wet leaves and grass sticking to his skin like icy magnets. The moon had faded behind a wall of thick clouds once more, the low distant rumble of thunder echoing above him. An icy chill swept through to forest and Sam tried not to shiver as he pushed himself back to his knees. Blood covered his side and arm, crimson streams snaking their way across his skin. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think, hell, it hurt to do damn near anything.

There was a sound behind him, thundering footsteps like a massive animal racing through the trees. Sam was on his feet and instant later, cutting immediately to his left and sprinting down another path. Hopefully he'd manage to avoid the creature just long enough to get away. And then what? Wait out in the woods for the rest to find him? He didn't have an answer, he was focused on surviving just long enough to get to the next stage of this plan.

Something heavy and black crashed into him from behind, tossing him like a rag doll into a clearing. Sam landed hard, the wind exiting his body in a powerful 'whoosh" and he lay on his back for several seconds, trying to suck in a decent breath.

A muzzle appeared above him, black and lined with razor sharp teeth. A deep feral growl vibrated the ground beneath him and for a reason completely separate from his fall, Sam couldn't breathe. Canines flashed above him, gleaming and deadly in the dull light. The wolf had him pinned, massive onyx body hovering over his and waiting for any reason to strike. And then suddenly it was gone, a gust of icy wind dissipating it and causing it to re-appear a few feet away at the edge of the clearing.

Sam sat up carefully, wounds throbbing relentless and breath coming out in weak, hitched gasps. Three men appeared alongside the wolf, their bodies painted black and their movements silent despite the dead leaves that littered the forest floor. They regarded Sam coldly, the way a shark eyes its prey seconds before it attacks. One held a spear, the other a bow with an arrow already notched, and the last held a hatchet. The wolf's ears flattened against its head as its eyes roamed over the injured, shivering young man. It was ready for the kill.

Suddenly, for some stupid reason, Sam felt angry. He pushed himself higher, hand absently going to his wounded side and leveled his gaze at the middle man. "What do you want with me?" He demanded, somewhat put off by how weak his voice sounded.

"Retribution." The man said though is sounded as though all three had spoken at once. "Vengeance for our people who were slaughtered by your hands."

Sam shook his head. "You've gotten your retribution. You've killed innocents just as the settlers killed your people. This war you've waged on everyone in your forest is not the answer!"

"Silence!" The man snarled and Sam felt a twisting in his gut that felt similar to being stabbed with an ice pick. He gasped, falling back to his knees and gripping his side more tightly. Blood streamed in between his fingers, falling onto the dead leaves below. "Your arrogance is what caused this! Your heartlessness and disregard for our people is what lead to this punishment. Blame yourself for this."

Sam struggled to control his breathing, the pain intensifying with each breath. The man was no longer speaking about him, he was referring to every person who had ever entered the forest. It was a losing battle on all sides because neither could rest in peace. The more people who came to the forest, the stronger the Schaduwen's rage would grow. "You're right." Sam said, sitting up on his knees and looking at the man. "I was arrogant, I was heartless. Kill me and it will all be over. I was the one who caused all of this, the one who destroyed your people, and for that I deserve death." A blood sacrifice could also mean a willing sacrifice; he'd read that somewhere once before. It was a long shot but maybe the only way to solve any of this. Sam could take it; the pain, the grief, the suffering they'd endured. He could represent the entire race of people who had destroyed them and hopefully, if everything went according to plan, one blow could end it all. Use yourself as a symbol for a nation and the entire thing will collapse.

The wolf snarled and the Schaduwen howled with rage, their bodies disappearing in the darkness. Almost instantly Sam felt like he's swallowed kerosene and lit a match. He was burning from the inside out; tearing, ripping, shredding, everything inside of him until there was nothing left. He wanted to cry out but didn't have to vocal capacity to do so. He hit the leaves with a muffled thump, chest constricting sharply as another wave of agony rolled through him.

The deaths of thousands consumed him, their pain threatening to drag him into the darkest abyss and leave him there for eternity. Despair, agony, hatred, fury, everything washed over him like a tidal wave. He felt like the very fabric of his being was being stripped away, set on fire, and then smothered out with broken glass.

He could take it though, he was strong enough to take this. The pain intensified once more, another internal attack, and Sam doubled in on himself, every ounce of air leaving his body. He was suffocating, drowning in nothing and yet the pain continued.

The breaking point was near, the last shred of consciousness he had was drawing out and he realized he'd stopped breathing for a good three minutes. And then, as suddenly as the pain had begun, it was over. The weight of the world literally lifted off of him and he couldn't move; he could do nothing but lay there. The shadowed image of a man appeared above him, his body black and a spear grasped in his hand. He said nothing but regarded Sam with a look that said he would sooner kill the younger man than talk to him anyway. There was a shimmer of darkness and he disappeared leaving Sam motionless on the forest floor.

He still couldn't breathe, his lung refused to expand in the least. It was an odd sensation and he should have been terrified but he couldn't feel anything, let alone fear. He struggled uselessly to take a breath once more, the movement stopping almost instant. Oh well, very little he could do now. He was remarkably calm when it came to his impending death; once again, he should have been terrified. There was a dull echo above him, far away and lost in his fading consciousness. He wished he could have known if Dean was alright, it would have made death much easier.

Sam blinked, eyes fluttering weakly as even that became too much for his body to bear. He focused on the blanket of leaves on the forest floor, silently submitting to whatever was going to happen next. Thunder rumbled and the rain began to fall and Sam knew nothing else.

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**Okay, so I figured if Sam offered to sacrifice himself it may negate the other stuff. Hopefully that makes sense O.o See ya'll in the next chapter!! :D**

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	15. Rescue

**Hey guys!! Sorry its taken me so long to update!! Here ya go!! :D**

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Dean raced through the dark forest, breath coming in short, sharp pants. His chest burned with exertion but he couldn't slow down, not until he'd found Sam. The only problem was he had no idea which way Sam went or how far he'd gotten. For all he knew, he could be going in the complete opposite direction and he'd never know.

He stopped, looking out into the darkness and breathing hard. It looked the same in every direction, nothing but black trees and shapeless shadows. He cursed under his breath, muttering an impressive string of profanity as he picked up the pace again. He'd left Saren behind, knowing the older woman couldn't keep up with his frantic search. Just as well too; he didn't want to risk her getting injured in the process.

Dean stopped again, catching the faintest sound of something in the distance. Almost like cry of pain. It was impossible to tell, probably nothing, but he had to hope that it wasn't. "SAM!!" He called as loud as he could, straining to hear any reply from his younger brother. "SAM!! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" There was still no reply but he had a sinking feeling that the sound he'd heard was from Sam. Turning abruptly, he took off in the direction of the noise.

The shadows seemed darker in this part of the forest, more oppressive and ominous. It felt like the entire night sky was crushing down upon him. Pushing away the thoughts, Dean ran faster, cutting through the dark branches and twisting roots. He stopped suddenly, the sound of thousands of footsteps echoing all around him. It felt like he's been dropping into the middle of a marching band but there was no one there to prove it. The footsteps were heavy, pounding to the point of almost being deafening, and they were everywhere. There were echoed whoops and hollers, far away yet impossibly close at the same time; hanging in the air like a lingering memory. Ignoring the strangeness of it all, Dean called out again for his brother. "SAMMY!!"

He pushed through the trees, a heaviness settling across his limbs like he was running through water. He was getting closer, he could feel it. "Hang on Sammy…I'm coming…" He whispered to himself, pushing forward once more.

Suddenly, the heaviness broke and he was sent tumbling to the ground at the edge of a clearing, landing hard on his knees. He winced, the jolt sending a shockwave through his hips and lower back. It wasn't so much painful as it was irritating. "Sonuvabitch…" He muttered, pushing himself off the ground and standing slowly. His hands were slick with water from the wet leaves that covered the ground and air was heavy with the smell of overturned soil and copper. He stopped suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. It wasn't soil that he was smelling, it was blood. He started to take another step forward but stopped, looking down at the ground. What he had originally mistaken for water covering the ground couldn't have been further from the truth. Blood was splashed all over the ground, painting the forest floor black and slick in the darkness. It was everywhere, on the ground, splattering the trees, there was no way it could have all come from one person. Still, Dean had a sinking feeling in his chest that he knew where a lot of it had come from.

"Sam…!!" He called, taking a few hesitant steps forward, his hands shaking as he tried to scrub the gory mess from his hands. There was a crumpled figure on the far side of the clearing, dark and unmoving. Dean felt his breath hitch in his throat as his eyes fell on the limp figure. "Oh God…" In a few short strides he was across the clearing, falling to his knees next to his lifeless little brother. "Oh God…Sammy…"

Sam lay motionless in a heap on the ground, his eyes staring blankly out into nothingness. His face was pale, lips tinged blue, and there was no rise and fall of his chest. He looked dead. And the blood. God, there was so much blood. He was literally covered from head to toe in jagged, bleeding wounds that had criss-crossed and snaked their way over his entire body. His clothes were soaked, face freckled with black drops that clung to his pale skin like shining jewels.

"Sam…?" Dean gasped, reaching a hesitant hand out to touch his brother's shoulder. "Sammy…" He could help his voice from shaking; Sam was so cold beneath his touch. _There is no way…there is no fucking way Sam's dead…_Dean shook his head suddenly and grabbed Sam, flipping him over a little more forcefully than he meant to. "Sam! Wake up!" He growled, fighting back the sting of tears as Sam gazed fixedly up at the cold stars. He pressed his fingers to his brother's throat, searching desperately for a pulse. He couldn't find one, nothing but despair meeting his search. "No!" He shook his head in disbelief and grabbed Sam's wrist, pressing his fingers at the base of his thumb and praying for anything. Still nothing.

Dean grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes closed, fighting against the tears that streamed down his face. "He's not dead…he'd not dead…" He whispered, leaning over and pressing his ear to his brother's chest, listening closely. "Come on Sammy…come on…don't do this Sam…" And then he heard it, the faintest sound of a heartbeat. At first he was convinced it wasn't there, a cruel trick of his mind, but then he heard it again. A very soft, almost undetectable thud of a heartbeat. Dean laughed breathlessly, closing his eyes as the tears fell freely. "That's my boy…there ya go Sam…" He whispered, keeping his ear pressed to the younger man's chest for a few seconds longer to assure himself that Sam was in fact alive.

There was a very soft sound, a whimper almost, and Dean sat up quickly, looking down at his brother's face. "Sam…? Hey kiddo, can you hear me?"

Sam didn't respond, his simply continued to stare up at the sky.

Dean felt the sear of panic flare up in his chest again. "Sammy." He said, shaking his little brother by the shoulders gently. "Come on man, breathe…" Upon receiving no recognition from his brother, Dean increased his tactics. "Sam, breathe." He said, shaking him a little harder. He knew it probably wasn't helping Sam's injuries at all but if it would help him take a breath that's all that mattered. Sam's eyelids fluttered faintly, his body remaining motionless. "Sam!" Dean snapped, slapping the younger man hard. "Take a breath! Breathe, Sammy!" He slapped him again, hard, and this time it elicited the response he wanted. Sam's eyes squeezed shut and his face crumpled in effort as he sucked in a deep breath and coughed violently.

"There you go…" Dean laughed in relief, rubbing slow, soothing circles on the younger man's chest as he continued to cough. "Deep breaths, Sammy…deep breaths…"

Sam coughed a few more times, his breath coming out in deep, shaky rattles. "De…" He coughed again before could finish.

"I'm here man…" Dean said, shrugging out of his jacket and laying it over his shivering brother. "I'm here Sammy…"

Sam grasped his brother's sleeve weakly, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "They're…gone…" He gasped, shaking a little as the effort of talking exhausted him.

"I know Sammy…" Dean looked out into the trees, fully expecting an attack that didn't come. "You got 'em kiddo."

"Mmm…" Sam shivered, his eyes beginning to close again.

"No. Sam, stay awake for me, okay?" Dean reached out and touched his brother's face gently. "You have to stay awake Sammy…"

"Tired…" Sam mumbled, quickly losing his fight with consciousness.

"I know you're tried, Sammy…I know you're very tired but you have to stay awake, alright? Just for a little bit." _Until I can find out what to do_ Dean thought miserably, realizing the hopelessness of their situation. They were miles away from the cabin and it wasn't going to get any warmer before the night was over. Not only that, there was no telling the extent of Sam's injuries in the dark and for all he knew they could be life-threatening. This was just perfect.

A beam of silvery light shot through the darkness and there was a loud cry that accompanied it. "HELLO!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"

Dean didn't care who it was, he just knew that Sam needed help fast. "Over here!" He yelled as loud as he could, gathering his slowly fading brother into his arms. "Hang on, Sammy…help is on the way…" He whispered down to the younger man. "We're over here!!"

Two more beams joined the first and then suddenly there was a whole group of them. One of the beams bounced over to them, stopping just at the front of the clearing. "What the…" A male voice stammered as blood reflected crimson in the light.

"Please, my brother needs help!" Dean called, waving at the man holding the flashlight. "Hurry!

Within seconds, at least four men holding flashlight had gathered around them, carefully taking Sam from Dean's grasp and placing him on a portable stretcher. The park Ranger from their first day appeared next to Dean and handed him a thick, fleece blanket. "You alright son?"

Dean nodded shakily, watching as the men hauled his brother away from the clearing. "I'm fine. Where are they taking him?"

"Rescue crew. We have an ambulance a few miles up the trail."

"Dean blinked in confusion. "How did you know where to find us?"

The Ranger shrugged slightly. "You're brother said your return date was yesterday and when you boys didn't show I organized a search party."

Dean could have hugged him; he took back all the evil things he'd thought about the Ranger. "Man, you guys have good timing…"

The Ranger laughed lightly and pushed him along. "Come on, let's get you boys out of here."

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**So was it okay?? Last chapter coming up!! And don't worry, I didn't forget about Saren!! =p**


	16. Camping Sucks

**Hey guys!! Good Lord, I'm so sorry it took me so long to update this O.o College is trying slowly but surely to kill me, I'm certain of it -.-; Anyway, I must confess something: This chapter blows. I really do apologize for it becuase its not the way I originally planned the ending but the story kind of took on a life of its own and well, the ending changed with it. It seems abrupt to me and rushed (partially becuase I haven't gotten to work on it in three weeks -.-; Thank you Blinn...) so I really do apologize for the hastiness of it. Also, I wanted Saren to appear on last time but couldn't really see her visiting them in the hospital so I left it out O.o. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading my story and I hope you all liked it!!**

**Hugs!!  
-Layla :D**

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A dull, persistent beeping was the first thing that lulled Sam out of the depths of unconsciousness. It was almost irritating, loud enough to make his head throb but soft enough to slip past his senses occasionally. He kept his eyes closed for a minute, trying to piece together everything that had happened over the past few days. It felt like a lifetime had passed and to be honest he wasn't sure how long he'd been away from the world of the living.

"You awake finally?" A voice asked from somewhere above him, concern mixing with mock accusation.

Slowly, Sam managed to pry his eyes open and blink up to the ceiling. It was white, patterned with blue tiles in offset triangles that splattered across the plaster like stencils. The room smelled sterile; the familiar scent of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol. Sam had been in enough hospitals to recognize the smell almost instantly. He turned his head slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles, and let his eyes come to rest on his brother perched in a flimsy plastic hospital chair. "Dean...?" He asked, his voice coming out as a rough croak.

"Yep. The one and only." Dean replied, grabbing a plastic cup from the bedside table and offering it to Sam. "Here, this will help your throat."

Sam took the cup gratefully, the joints in his arm protesting the movement, and gulped down to contents, feeling like he hadn't drank anything in weeks. He reached over to set the cup back down on the table and felt something tug against his skin. It was only then did he notice that he was bandaged pretty much from head to toe.

Dean must have noticed his confusion because he cleared his throat in an opportunity to explain. "Yeah, you were covered in cuts when they brought you in here. I told them it was because you managed to find a convenient cliff to throw yourself down when we were hiking and that's where the injuries came from. The arrow wound was a little more difficult to explain." He laughed humorlessly and folded his hands in his lap. There was a brief silence, Dean chewing on his lip thoughtfully as he struggled with something internally. "Sam, what the hell were you thinking? Those things could have killed you. Hell, they nearly did." Dean faded off and shook his head.

Sam frowned. Guilt was something they ran on in their family and it took very little to push someone over that precarious edge. What he had done was reckless, hell, downright stupid, and he was fully prepared for the tongue-lashing he was about to receive from his brother but he knew in his heart that what he had done was the only way to stop the Schaduwen. He couldn't blame Dean though, he knew he'd be pretty pissed too if his older brother had pulled the same stunt. "I had to do something Dean...you saw what they did to that cabin. If I had stayed then both your and Saren were in danger..." He stopped, suddenly realizing that the old woman was nowhere to be found.

"She's alright." Dean informed him quickly, noting the panic in his little brother's eyes. "They brought her in as well for a few bumps and bruises. One of the historical societies nearby discovered she's been living out in the forest and offered to rebuild her house. They can't make her leave; she has a deed for that section of the park." He smiled softly. "She saved your life, you know?"

Sam nodded. He remembered enough of the events to know that he'd be dead without Saren's skills as a healer. He shifted, wincing again at the stiffness in his muscles. "How long have I been here, Dean?"

"About three days."

"What?!"

Dean just nodded sagely. "Yep, you were borderline hypothermic when they brought you in, not to mention the arrow wound and all the other cuts; most of them weren't deep enough to require stitches though." He shrugged a little. "The arrow missed any major organs or arteries but there was an infection they needed to address so you got to spend a few nights in ICU." He reached over and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Doc says you should be good to go in a day or two though."

Sam nodded again, leaning back against the pillows and taking a deep breath. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"If we never go camping again it will be too soon."

Dean chuckled softly, settling back in the plastic chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Agreed, little brother."

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**There you go!! Hopefully my next story will end better than this one O.o Thanks guys!! You all rock my socks!! :D**


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